


The Homo Project

by amensicAbstemius



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Chubby Karkat, Collegestuck, Dirty Talk, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Humanstuck, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Safer Sex, Sloppy Makeouts, Smoking, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amensicAbstemius/pseuds/amensicAbstemius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you have absolutely no fucking clue how you made it to college, but you're here, you're not sure what to expect, but you're totally down with it."</p><p>One stoned Gamzee, one stoned Bro (Dirk) Strider, and a few months of pure shenanigans. What can go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Catching Up

**Author's Note:**

> And there we go.  
> First one.  
> I'm not sure what I'm doing, but I think it should turn out relatively okay.
> 
> Also this was inspired by a chat I had with a friend, so here goes I guess, I'll try to keep it up to date, but don't blame me if I post it up hella late.
> 
> EDIT: The school system is based off of the EUROPEAN system (precisely speaking Slovenian one), so college and highschool and faculty is basically the same thing. It's really not important anyway.

Settling into a student home dorm was easy, and finding a roommate wasn't a problem, but the morning of your first day of college went something like this.

You wake up to the sound of your phone blasting some shitty rap song, much too early to your liking since it was seven in the morning, plus it was the same ringtone as last year, so you turn that damned thing off before it makes you want to throw it out the window. You'll have to change it later. Maybe to a less shittier rap song.

Nah, it'll probably be shitty anyway.

After the initial "getting your ass out of bed in less than thirty minutes" ritual was complete, you drag your feet out of your room and to the shared bathroom of the dorm, your choleric roommate long gone. How the hell he got up before you, you don't know, and you don't care. All you care about is getting yourself cleaned up and go to school to get over with what was necessary.

When you find that only one other guy is up and getting himself cleaned up, you give him a pretty half-assed and mumbled "G'mornin'" and walk to the sink to brush your teeth.

Holy shit, you look like shit.

Your jet black hair is sticking up in every direction, though it's flatter on your left side, since you slept on that one, and it looks like some kind of weird, one-sided mohawk. It takes somewhere around fifteen minutes to tame the beastly mess of black locks into how you usually wear it, less matted than it was fifteen minutes ago, but basically the same, then another ten for you to pick out the clothes you'll be wearing for today.

Finally, you settle on a black t-shirt with a random design on it, a few splashes of colors here and there, a very loose and baggy pair of black jeans and your favorite purple hoodie, a bit worn by the years. Your messenger bag is tucked in a corner, ready for you to pick it up and get out, only holding a few notebooks and a pencil case.

Said bag is a light grey, lined with black and a logo of, of course, due to the fact that you are trash, "Insane Clown Posse" embroidered on the front in azure blue thread. Plus the hatchet guy logo on the back of it. The black shoulder strap is covered in random badges, ranging from "Life's a bitch" to ganja leaves and rasta designs and then to one with that famous picture of Einstein sticking his tongue out.

When you finally shove your feet into your dirty, purple and white high-top shoes the size of a fucking shovel, because you're a 6'3" tall son of a bitch and your feet are proportionally large, the time is already 7:34, and you practically run out the door, through the hallway and down the stairs from the top floor, then all the way to the bus stop without even looking around. 

You realise that you seriously need coffee right now, or any sort of caffeine, but then you shrug it off and pull your earbuds out of the front pocket of the bag, plugging them into your phone and putting one of the random playlists on shuffle. Should keep you up for a little.

The bus stop is across from the student home, in front of a parking lot belonging to a shopping mall, but the boring kind which has orthodontists and shitty bars and a bakery in it. From the side of the road you are standing on, you have a view of the home, having had crossed it beforehand. It isn't just one building, of course, it's a whole complex. Even you get lost in it occasionally, so describing it is out of the question, but as far as setting the scene goes, it has a boring, monotone white wall with windows and tiny balconies, and a little courtyard in the middle of the complex, seeing as it was in a sort of pentagular shape. That's where people keep their bikes and that's also where people steal said bikes, so you don't even think about bringing yours.

Two minutes later and the bus is loading up with about a dozen people, ranging from students to older people of random ages going to work. A few of them are in a group, talking and laughing and how the fuck are they so awake this early in the morning. You choose a seat somewhere in the back after getting on, somewhere you can stretch your incredibly long legs out and bless the almighty spaghetti monster, your favorite spot is free. Then again, two stops later, the vehicle is basically overloading, so that moment of rejoice is quickly ruined. At least you get off fairly quickly, nudging a few people out of the way to get out of that steamy tin can.

When you step off and look around, you're standing between a few large buildings, this being where the city begins. On the other side of the road, there's a white building with blue lined windows, known as the College of Liberal Arts, and there's a little park with a bar and two little restaurants behind it, and on the left, the College of Mechanical Engineering, which is a really weird and confusing building to you.

Back to your side of the road, your middle school is there, a huge, grand looking, stone-gray building, and teens are already gathering in front of it, smoking and chatting. For some reason, everyone smoked. Why? You don't know, but you pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time, seeing that you have about ten minutes of free time left. Sweet. You reach into your trashy-ass bag, pull out a pack of Winstons - the minty kind you have to squeeze the filter on - and quickly light one, before turning to the right and looking at the building right in front of yourself. Faculty of Chemistry and Chemical Technology. 

Your new school.

You'd finished the four years of a chemistry major of your middle school, and you honestly had fun with all those weird chemicals and sweet shit you could do with them. As dumb and as disorganized you look, and as big of an asshole as you are, you're far from stupid, so people are kind of surprised when you manage to keep your grades above average. It's fun when the professors decide to try and screw with you and you just throw it right back in their face and they don't have anything else to do but give you a good grade.

Now it's time for the real deal.

You finish your cigarette after a while and toss it on the ground, stepping on it afterwards and then walk down the road and sidewalk leading to the entrance. The doors are large, double and dark gray, the building in itself is a little monotone, being the same color, but the windows are lined with an orangish brown looking marble, or whatever it is.

It looks like marble to you, but it could be wood for all you care.

The inside is pretty nice, marbly, full of frantic students searching for which class they belong to, older students simply walking up the large staircase after checking the large announcement board. So, after seeing what they do, you follow, finding "Gamzee Makara" listed on one and checking the timetable for the class you're assigned to.

Easy as that, you make your way upstairs, not even caring who bumps into you and you just keep walking until getting to a hallway door and waiting in the crowd of other students who, like most of the ones in the hallway, seem pretty lost, a few actually talking, the others staying quiet, but you just keep cool. Of course, you take your earbuds out and shove them into the bag, just in case someone were to talk to you or something, also checking the time on your phone and seeing that there's just a minute left before class begins.

Someone taps your shoulder while you're in mid-yawn and stretch, making you turn around with a really dumb expression and in a really weird pose, arms over your head and fingers entertwined so you would really stretch like you want to, but apparently, this jerk is about to ruin it and you're ready to-

Oh look, your friend Eridan.

"I'd be happy if you w-wouldn't punch me on the first day of school, Gamz," he says in his usual mightier-than-thou tone of voice, and you can't help but grin and lower your arms to give him your bro-shake and a bro-hug, patting him on the back before pulling away again. "You lil' shit, where ya been? Callin' an' callin' to ask if a brother wants to pop up and hang, but you ain't answerin'!" You retort, but obviously not in a demeanor like his, since your way of speaking is a lot more relaxed sounding, slurred, not at all like his. Almost like you're total opposites in that detail.

Eridan Ampora is your classmate as well as your best friend, and has been that through the whole four years of middle school, being one of the few people that know you as more than a weirdo and a quote-unquote junkie. The others are your brother and your roommate, but that's where it starts to end; plus your brother's studying somewhere abroad, that extravagant fucker. Anyway, back to your friend. He hasn't changed the slightest bit, and you like it that way, just the usual asshole as he always is. It's probably why you get along so well.

On this so delightful and so tiring day that marks the beginning of the school year, he's decided to wear his stupid denim skinny jeans (which he claims are skinny jeans, but are actually just plain, standard jeans), and a white t-shirt with large, black letters that say "Your face offends me", also a black leather jacket over it. Truly Eridan. His shoes are those of the converse kind, dirtied with years of wear and a faded black color, shoelaces violet with barely visible little black stars. His bag also bears a Converse logo, the fabric the same as the shoes, but in a white color that he's splashed other colors on and then painted white seahorses over. Why? You never bother with asking.

And what is the most impact bearing feature of him? Definitely his face. Always seeming unamused, but in a sort of sassy way, like he doesn't care if you're there or not, as long as you aren't talking to him or are in his way. His hair is still as black as he dyes it, with a large patch of dark violet locks combed back with the rest of it from the front. You know you're too lazy to dye your hair, but yours is naturally black, and you'd rather not bleach it. Eridan pulls it off much better than you ever could, really.

"I'v-ve been busy during the holidays. Dad insisted on me gettin' a lousy job and my brother w-wrecked my phone. Fuckin' finally got a new one last w-week." He huffs annoyedly, obviously still not having gotten rid of his stutter like he promises you every year before summer begins, but it isn't as bad as when you met him. Poor guy could barely even talk without making himself look like a nervous wreck, but then again, no one understood you then, and no one understands you now, so you can't complain.

"Motherfucker, don't tell me your dad's still givin' you that whole: 'I'm yer dad, listen ta me'," you imitate his dad with a broken Scottish accent, which sounds that much worse with your southern drawl. It makes him smile, and that makes you happy. 

"He chilled a bit, but yeah, he's at it," he says, rolling his eyes and leaning against the wall beside you with his arms crossed.

Just as he does that, a formally dressed woman that's definitely nearing sixty, short, with a beige blouse and a beige pencil skirt with beige tights underneath and a pair of short heels walks to the door and fumbles to unlock it. Seriously, what's with old people and beige? Her expression is focused on whatever she is focused on, and her gray hair is tied back into a bun as she lets the large group of about thirty students enter, including you and Eridan.

You immediately choose a seat in the back and he sits right beside you. Duh. Best bros are together even if separated to the opposite sides of the class.

Homeroom passes pretty quickly, you forget her name and she hands out some pieces of paper that you sign and hand in, then she goes over the school rules and explains where this and that is, how the labs work, all that boring crap. You jot down the most important things in a little notebook you brought just for this kind of information and, when the speaker that's in every class and every hallway plays a stupid tune that you know you'll end up being in a love/hate relationship with for four years, you get up and get out of the room, and then proceed to a few other classes, which also end before noon, since it's just the first day.

Oh, yeah, first two weeks meant mostly parties and free time.

You walk out of the building, accompanied by Eridan, who obviously doesn't have anything better to do, so you decide on going to a café and getting a drink or two, plus breakfast, since they have had a cappuccino plus cheese toast special for as long as you've known this place, and it's really good toast too. Eridan makes small talk, then you both start talking about your holidays, him explaining how working at his dad's fish and seafood place left him smelling like fish for the rest of his life and you can't help but laugh at that, then you start talking about how much shit you did with your brother and, soon enough, you two are talking like the friends you are during every year of middle school.

Middle school for you two was quite an experience. Not because that was when you met and did stupid shit, but because that was when you actually started getting into a few more relationships. As the weirdo you are, you're bisexual, and Eridan knows it, but he's still on a bit of a skeptical side about his own sexual preferences, and you've thrown yourself into relationships with so many girls and guys that lasted from a week to a month, but never anything more than holding hands and maybe making out. 

Honestly, you suck at the dating game, even now.

On the other hand, Eridan was in a similar situation, freezing up every single time he was confronted with flirting, which he had learned to pick up on fairly quickly and you wonder if he had any experiences during the summer. So you ask.

"Hey, what about them lovin' skills a yours, bro? Snag a fish while you was pullin' 'em outta the water?" You slur, chewing on your cheese filled toast and leaning on the armrest of the chair you were sitting on.

The café you've chosen is the one behind the College of Liberal Arts, the one in the park, and it has a pleasant, warm atmosphere, with students talking and chatting, since this is a place where mostly students hang out. The day is turning out to be rather nice as well, early October, not too hot, not too cold, basically hoodie weather and just sunny enough not to blind you.

His eyes kinda widen when you say that, and he pauses and clears his throat. 

"W-why do you gotta kno-know that?" He asks while eyeing you kind of suspiciously, and the stutter makes him sound a lot more nervous than he is.

"I'm askin', just askin'," you say with a smile to calm him down. It's not like you asked something horrid, did you? Shy dude, you remind yourself.

He takes a sip of his coffee, just to stall further, until he finally puts it down and takes a slow, relaxed breath. "I met someone."

You grin and put the two pieces of bread and cheese down onto the plate on the round table and raise your fist up for the "traditional" fistbump. "Ya lil' shit," you say just as you fistbump him, "can I get some info 'bout that fillet?" He glares. "A'ight, fine, fine, don't kill me!"

"W-well, I'm not quite comfortable w-with tellin' personal information to a third party inv-involved, but, eh..." He trails off, the slightest pink blush on his cheeks as he gnaws nervously on his own toast. "It's a gmhn..." Okay. So he's embarrassed.

"Naw, bro, ya know that this motherfucker here's all ears, ain't gonna judge ya if she has like, a finger missin' or some wicked shit like that." You chuckle and give him a playful and non-painful punch on the shoulder, he actually cracks a smile at that.

Eridan then leans forward to make sure no one else but you hears him, voice barely above a whisper. "It's... a guy."

Well, well, well. Well. What a twist.

"Mother. Fuck," You say and grin, patting him on the shoulder. That was something you were genuinely surprised at. "How'd that happen?"

"W-well-... It's more like, you kno-know. I'm just seein' if this is my thing, and it's going okay, I guess. He's... hard to understand, but he can be real sw-sweet." He explains and you just smile at him, sipping at that sweet, sweet caffeine you've been waiting for all morning. "We met w-when I bumped into him and made him sho-shove his ice cream into his face, and then he started freakin' at me, so I helped him clean off and he... bought me ice cream. Guess I got lucky by bein' awkward.

You feel pretty happy for him. If he's satisfied, you're definitely okay with it, and if the guy he's chosen decides to screw with him, he's got another thing coming.

Another thing being a 6'3" tall angry juggalo. If it's for your friends, you wouldn't hesitate.

"Ya ain't gotta tell me anythin' 'bout him if ya don't wanna, a'ight?" You chuckle and proceed to eat the last bits of your toast, then continue with your coffee. "Maybe tell me how old he is? How long ya been together?"

"Nineteen, a fe-few months younger than us. And... it's been three months since last week." He says, still having his toast since he eats slowly. Very slowly. How do people even eat like that? It's so weird, and it leaves you wondering. The age difference doesn't sound too bad between him and his guy, so you guess you'll leave it be and not prod at Eridan more. There's plenty of time to get more information about his boyfriend.

"Anyw-way," he continues, "I'll hav-have to get going. Don't w-want to keep him w-waiting."

"Aw, shit, man, good luck." You say and then glance at the piece of unfinished toast in his hand. "You gonna-"

"Nah."

He passes it to you with a roll of his eyes and you gladly finish it while he downs his coffee, yours long gone and you smile at him with a mouthful of cheese and bread. After both of you pay for your separate things, you wave to him as you head in separate ways, him further into the city, and you to the bus back home, which you have to wait like twenty fucking minutes for.

In that time, you hook up your earbuds and have another smoke, then start thinking back to middle school, since you probably won't think about it anymore. Maybe mention a thing sometimes, but not much else.

Yeah, you remember meeting Eridan pretty well.

Or not, since you were stoned on the first day of middle school, you actually remember that little detail too.

For the majority of the first semester, you were more of a loner, honestly, but you didn't mind it. Elementary was basically the same; just you, alone for nine years, being the weirdo of the class. However, in the second semester, you started hanging out with a little group of people, all of you sometimes sneaking out of the school to go have a little hit or two and return to the next lesson with reddened, narrowed eyes and huge grins on your faces while your professors never even noticed. 

There was a party held at the end of the first school year at a classmate's house, and, for the first time in your whole life, you were actually invited. It turned out with you realising that parties with strangers were definitely not your thing. Not that you were awkward, you just never felt the actual need to socialise with so many drunk people that probably won't remember you the next morning. All except this one sober dude that seemed like he was avoiding all human contact, that guy was pretty fucking hilarious.

And yes, that sober dude was Eridan Ampora.

While you were occupying a couch in one of the rooms, having a nonchalant smoke that no one forbid you from having, he sat down on the same couch, since it was the only free space and in a quieter room. Only five other people were in it and only one was a bit drunker. So, that was how that went, then you offered him a smoke, but he refused, saying he didn't smoke others than his own. As you found out later, he smoked Style Super Slims. Rose. Seriously, holy shit. The bitchiest cigarettes that even women didn't smoke, let alone guys and honestly, you judged him a little for that afterwards.

But, back to the party, he declined your offer for a smoke, then he mentioned something about you being quite the quiet individual.

And the conversation went from there.

And then over the holidays when you hung out.

And soon you were bros for life and when you were back in school, no one matched the shit you pulled. Best three years of your life, honestly. 

Is there something you forgot? No, you're sure you remembered that time you put your now deceased pet rat in your teacher's purse. Poor little Milenko, he will forever be honored as the one who took the plunge into the dreaded yellow leather holder of horror of your geography professor.

Seriously, that purse is going to haunt your eyes for your entire life.

But seeing the reaction was priceless, she yelped and dropped her purse and next thing you know the principal, who was basically the best guy in the whole office, was petting your rat and saying it was all chill and that you shouldn't do that because the rat might run off somewhere or get a heart attack.

Okay, there is one thing that you don't mention to yourself though, because you and Eridan promised to never, ever, even on your death bed, bring it up. It's fine if you think about it with yourself though, right? You and him are the guardians of this locked away thing anyway, so no harm done at all.

After the third year of middle school and before the third summer holidays you and him were to spend together, a few slightly confusing weeks were squeezed in. Just before you finished your grades, Eridan had asked you if you want to hang out. Okay, cool, bro night out, you thought.

Until he took you to the largest park in the city. Which had a lake. And in the time of evening.

And told you it was a date.

That was when you realised you were crushing slightly on your classmate, and you were too preoccupied beforehand to notice it.

Back to the date part, funny thing was, you didn't mind it at fucking all. Hell, he knew you the best, you knew him the best, so you could totally have fun as a little more than just best friends, right? Yeah, right.

Well, you went on a few more dates, and they were pretty fun, actually, you shared your first kiss in a movie theatre (row fifteen, seats three and four), which, yeah, was a bit of an awkward one, but it was pleasant nonetheless. You were both pretty clumsy when it came to that, but it also never got past it, and a few more dates and kisses (and maybe a couple of makeout sessions) you both decided it wasn't working anymore and broke it off. That didn't mean you weren't best bros anymore, no, you agreed that it was actually a beneficial thing, kind of like a way to bond.

After you passed that line, you were even more inseparable, and really, you still loved your best friend in the same way he loved you; the most heterosexual one, duh.

How the hell you wind up back in your dorm, you don't know, but your roommate's late as shit, so you steal some of his doritos and just go laze about your day until you have to go and get ready for bed and the following day of school.

Maybe you could try to socialise this year, that's a nice goal. Get a bro or two, hang with them. Awesome.


	2. One for the Doritorians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so sometimes, you like to "party" on your own, not a big deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this half typed out so ayy, fast posting, how 'bout that? But yeah, if you're actually still interested in this shit of a fic that was made on a whim and then got procrastinated leave me some feedback which is greatly appreciated, thank you! uwu

As promised and as expected, thereiss a party held the next evening.

Ah, yes, a dorm full of drunk teenagers practically destroying everything in their close proximity with drinking games and jumping on the furniture; which is all still part of a third person's dorm. That shit is seriously not your style, and not that you don't like drinking, hell you do, but you still don't like previously mentioned crowded dorms full of drunk teens, you really prefer a circle of friends around a table at a bar, maybe a club, but even clubs are pushing it. Still too loud and crowded for you.

People have tried to drag you to many parties, but ultimately failed when you turned around the second you saw how many people were actually attending them.

It might’ve seemed like anxiety at first, but it turns out that you really just don't like people, and you don't want to be part of larger crowds because you feel like you’d end up punching some idiot in the closest proximity to you, regardless if he seems stronger than you because your height has saved your ass many times before. You're actually kind of weak in the physical department, your punches are okay, sure, you've knocked a few people unconscious, but your main intimidating feature is still your height. Needless to say, some people fear you even if they're on your good side.

Anyway, your roommate only briefly stops by for maybe a few minutes, tells you that you should go socialize more and get your ass to that party, then disappears into the night, saying something about spending it somewhere else and ooh, look, the room is yours now.

You sit up after you're sure he's not coming back, having waited twenty minutes to make sure he is definitely on the bus and then reach over into the bottom drawer of your desk after rolling onto your stomach on the bed.

Alright, so sometimes, you like to "party" on your own, not a big deal.

The "sometimes" applies to about once or twice a month, maybe three if Eridan decides to join you; which he does about forty percent of the time.

This time, it's all yours though, and you can definitely say it'll hit the spot. First one of the school year.

Your hand pulls out a little metal box, not any special color or anything, just the metal shine of, well, metal. The metal lid is quickly opened and lo-and-behold, there's a package of extra large cigarette paper with those cardboard feeling filters you have to roll yourself, a few cigarettes, some broken in half and, of course, the plastic package of Mary-Jane.

Now here comes the shitty part of smoking weed for you: rolling it.

The misery is short lived and you get to work, getting up to sit at your desk and pulling a piece of paper from the top drawer to set it down on the surface as to not make too much of a mess, then taking the plastic bag with the weed and taking it apart with your hands, the smell being the only thing that really does make it tolerable. Sweet, kinda strong, but you wouldn't have it any other way. 

Grinders are overrated to you, using your hands puts some love into it, you always say.

Filter rolled, cigarette tobacco mixed with the green and you start filling up the paper, put the filter in after it's about half full, then tap it on the desk lightly, filter side down and start to fill it again, taking a pencil to compress it gently. Obviously the shitty part. Some friends tell you you take too much time, but you like it just like you do it.

Finally, the joint is rolled and you take the paper, which still has a few little pieces of both the weed and the tobacco on it, so you smile, get up, take it with you to the window and blow it lightly off of it. Like your brother taught you, that is for the gods.

Wise fucking words, bless him.

You pull an ashtray from your shelf and set it down on your desk - it's a really wicked ashtray, you always say - smooth, triangular, onyx black with a slightly sparkling sheen to it, and you just love that thing; mostly because your brother gave it to you, but oh, what are you going to do, refuse a gift?

After closing the window for a better effect later on, you sit down, lean back and pull your lighter from the hoodie that's hanging on your chair, then take the rolled up joint, set it in between your lips, light it and take a few quick drags from it, inhaling between them and holding your breath for a few seconds before slowly exhaling.

This is going to be a really nice night, you can feel it.

Twenty or thirty minutes later, you're standing in front of your window, looking out with your mouth stretched into a large grin, eyes narrowed and the ashtray slightly filled with the ashes of what is now a filter with just a little bit of paper and charred tobacco with weed rolled in it, which you put out, feeling like that should be enough.

Like you haven't just smoked a whole joint by yourself and half of it would've been plenty, jeez.

On the other hand, you're basically in happy-relax land, and you couldn't care less about how much you- oh your god, the window. It acts like a mirror you can see through, holy shit. Why have you not thought of that before? It makes so much sense!

Okay, enough with those thoughts, there's something else that's pestering you, what is it? Huh... you could've sworn you had something on your mind- wait.

You got it. You're feeling hungry. Thaaat's it, yes.

Fumbling a little bit with the doors of your little wardrobe, you finally open them, bending over and reaching into the furthest depths of what seems to be another dimension, then pull out a box where you keep all of your snacks and candy, taking out a convenient bag of chips, doritos to be exact.

After putting the box back and closing the door, you flop onto your bed and pull your laptop onto your stomach, then open the bag of chips, quickly shoving a handful into your mouth. The screen and everything in your sight seems to fade a little, like you're repeatedly zooming out and yet not zooming out, more like you're being sucked backwards into a million dimensions and not getting any further from your current position. 

The little pieces of chips are pretty much being automatically chewed, your jaw just smoothly moving and munching on, and you can feel every single bit of the doritos shifting over your tongue, your teeth and going down your throat. It's like your senses are being enhanced, and you could erase and create universes with a flick of your finger. Hell, like you're the chosen one.

Fuck yes.

But what about the doritos? You think. What if they could speak? What would they say? What would they do? Fuck, what if they had feelings, to top it off? You'd be the first one fighting for their rights, that's for sure, you wouldn't leave them behind. But what about the other brands, damnit? Oh, lord, this is hard. Life is hard. Dorito life is so hard. They have it so bad, now that you think about it, getting made, then packaged up into a dark space with others of your kind, eventually shipped to different places and when that space finally opens, you're like, just sitting there, staring at a bit of light until something reaches for you and chomps down on you. The mere thought of that makes you shiver and reach for another handful absent-mindedly.

You could write a little declaration of rights for doritos, maybe that would help their social status and slow ascent into the most scrumptious and highly respected position in the chip world. No, not maybe, it would definitely help. If you want this to happen, you should get to work ASAP; and so you do, opening up Microsoft Word and typing away.

Should you do a full history? Nah, that's not what the problems are and not what you should be focused on. A brief history, just so whoever reads it knows you're a smart intellectual that knows his facts about doritos. Very good. Then what? Address the problem? Yes, very good again.

This is serious business, and your hands type like the keys are on fucking fire. In merely thirty minutes, there's four pages full of text, in one of the smaller fonts you can use which you don't even realize to be comic sans, so by the time you're done, there's the four pages of a trashy declaration of rights for the minority of Doritorians. Their ascent to the top begins and you are the one to be credited.

You reach for the bag again, deciding it would be like a treat for a job well done, but it's empty, and the unraveling of that seems to strike you as horrifying. Very quickly, you scramble to get another snack, this time a bag of sour gummy worms, one of your favorites. The top place is obviously reserved for chocolate and pudding. For some reason, you can't decide what's better, so you leave the two things to share first place. Now, what were you going to do? Ah, yes- no. No that wasn't it. Why is your laptop there again? This is starting to get a little confusing.

Bag of sour worms in hand, you stand in the middle of the room, looking around almost frantically as you think of the possibilities of what you could make happen. Suddenly, you turn to the window again and see yourself in it, your previous thoughts catching up and you're yet again caught in a transfixed stare into your own half-reflection, admiring it, being completely entranced in what is the rectangular confine of the window. What if you're the reflection? What if you're the one in the other dimension? Did you form from a complex transcendension? Shit, you think, that needs condescension.

All these thoughts make you chew on the worms double-time, completely subconsciously, so when you come to and realize that you've been munching on them so fast, you tell yourself to slow down.

Two seconds later and your hand is back in the bag, grabbing more worms.

But what if in that reverse universe, they call feet foots? Even you sometimes say that in a quick slur, but what if it's a regular thing there? And what if there, they don't leave, they just arrive? But what sense would leaving have? Are you the leave? How can a leave leave? If a leave leaves, you're not sure what's left. And how can you be if a leave has left? Is there only one leave? Maybe the leave is the last one to leave. Or maybe there's an abscond? Wait, can a leave absco- oh, your gummy worm bag is empty.

You toss it away unceremoniously and sigh, picking some stray jelly from your teeth with your tongue and step closer to the window, lean against the sill and stare at the other windows that can be seen from this angle, all facing the courtyard, except that yours has one of those emergency fire escape staircase right outside. That could've been a great spot for you to smoke, now that you think about it- oh, shit, drugs are forbidden in the home. Right.

Very quickly, you scramble to open the window wide and make sure you don't knock something over or bang yourself in the face and head, which has a high probability of happening with your motoric skiĺls lagging like a snail with cerebral paralysis. Okay, maybe not that much, but something along those lines.

When you realize that the evening air is cold and is making your skin develop goosebumps, your hands reach for your hoodie, which you slide on slowly, the feeling of it on your skin making your drug-addled brain percept it as extremely weird and ticklish. Eventually though, you zip it up after messing around with the zipper for like two full minutes and just barely escaping the action of counting the metal zipper teeth.

Now that would've been a stupid thing to do; the declaration of rights for the minority of Doritorians has a purpose though, so it's totally not a waste of time.

So, after that's done and the room is nicely ventilating and clearing of the kind of suffocatingly dense smoke, you sit down again, not feeling any kind of hunger or need, just sort of a blank mind as you think of the possibilities of what you could do to entertain yourself. Maybe you could watch a movie? Eh, nah.

You take your laptop again and set it on the desk, pulling Skype up after closing the dorito thing and saving it as "freEE Be the ChIPS.docx", your fingers moving as fast as that snail from before. Actually, so does your head. Wait no, not slow, the other thing - heavy. Wow, you cannot believe you're drowzy, you've had enough sleep, you're sure of that. Midnight to eight in the morning is a perfectly acceptable time, jeez brain, lay the fuck off the false alarms.

Anyway, after that little argument with the organ that's also making you have said argument, you focus on Skype (which you managed to hack a while ago and you have this really cool purple skin for), finding Eridan's contact under the 'favorites' group and click on the text box.

\-- Monday at 21:43 -- 

GAMZEE: broooo  
ERIDAN: oh hey  
GAMZEE: yuo  
GAMZEE: you* havin fun yet  
ERIDAN: what  
ERIDAN: also you never make typos why are you makin typos  
ERIDAN: oh OH you're in greenland okay  
GAMZEE: hell fcukin yesssddss  
ERIDAN: how much did you have jesus fuck gam  
GAMZEE: just one ;))  
ERIDAN: by yourself  
GAMZEE: whatchu mean yourself  
GAMZEE: my roommate ain't home yet what makss yoy think i shared  
GAMZEE: mistakes over there haha*  
ERIDAN: right  
ERIDAN: anyway my point rn  
ERIDAN: where the fuck is my share man  
ERIDAN: first one of the year youre breakin my heart here how dare you gam  
GAMZEE: aw shit i didn't mean to :'C  
ERIDAN: im sad because of you now  
ERIDAN: look at how sad i am

Eridan Ampora sent file look @me.png.

ERIDAN: :''''ccc  
GAMZEE: nooo shit don't do that  
GAMZEE: fuuukk i'm sorry bro :c  
GAMZEE: oh dude  
GAMZEE: look at this fucker  
ERIDAN: what  
GAMZEE: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
ERIDAN: i  
ERIDAN: i fucking give up  
GAMZEE: we'll blaze one together i promise okay  
ERIDAN: im still so fucking done with you  
GAMZEE: also  
ERIDAN: i swear to fuck i will  
ERIDAN: what  
GAMZEE: where you at  
ERIDAN: home  
ERIDAN: waiting  
GAMZEE: fooiior?? ;;)))  
GAMZEE: ooo*  
ERIDAN: well what do you think  
GAMZEE: i dunno you tell me bro  
ERIDAN: my bf okay shut up  
GAMZEE: mmmmmmmmmmmmmm  
ERIDAN: stop no  
GAMZEE: mmmmmmmmmmmmnnmmnmmmmmnmmnm  
ERIDAN: GAMZ STOP  
GAMZEE: use protection hahaaa ;))  
ERIDAN: were just gonna watch a movie holy fuck no  
ERIDAN: get off my dick  
ERIDAN: wAIT NO DONT YOU DARE  
GAMZEE: aww shti  
GAMZEE: shuuuiit*  
GAMZEE: that**  
ERIDAN: look man ily but don't do that to every joke  
GAMZEE: i'm kiddin you know me haha  
GAMZEE: ily2 bro  
ERIDAN: no homo  
GAMZEE: a little homo  
ERIDAN: you fuckin prick  
GAMZEE: eyyyyy good luck a'ight  
ERIDAN: yeah yeah yeah thanks all the homo  
ERIDAN: HES HERE RIP ME

Eridan Ampora is busy.

GAMZEE: tell me how shit goes btw i wanna hear if and how my bro scored

Lucky guy, you're so proud of him. Now when the fuck was the last time you actually had a relationship? Possibly before the holidays, but you can't remember, and you don't dwell too much on past relationships.

When your eyes finally detach themselves from the conversation you just had, the image of blue and gray text bubbles burned into your retinas for a few seconds and you have to blink about fourteen times to get them away, you pull up your web browser - good ol' trusty Google Chrome - and proceed with checking your Facebook. Nothing new, honestly, just people that had gotten extremely drunk last night, some updated profile pictures that you ignored more or less, then some posted by your liked sites. Those consisted mainly of psychedelic art, food and rainbow unicorns.

Why?

Why not?

You get bored of that pretty quickly, knowing in the back of your head that you should keep yourself entertained or else it won't be as good anymore, and you most definitely do not want that. Let's see the possibilities here then.

More screwing around on your computer, empty your sugar supplies, smoke another one, but the chances of that happening are going into minus percentage territory, you're smart enough not to do that, go to the party, which you're also sure is not going to happen, message a few people from the dorm if they want to hang. Then again, those fuckers are probably at that party too, so you don't want to bother them.

It's too early to go to bed as well, seeing as the time is only 9:56, if you trust your computer clock, which you're sure you do. Didn't some dude say time passes relatively? The hell did he say again? Something like if it passes really quickly for someone, it could pass really slowly for you? Hmm... you wonder...

Your eyes become fixed, glued and cemented on the digital clock in the lower right corner of the screen, chin rested on the laptop so you're comfortable while you stare at the few pixels that form numbers. Maybe if you focus really, really, really hard, you'll be able to pin-point the exact speed of which time goes by, so you wait until it turns to 9:57 and start to count to sixty. The minute turns over just when you're at fifty-four, and you wait again to start over and start to count again. This time, you finish at fifty-fe.

The plot of life, it thickens.

Eventually, you decide to keep track of this, taking a pen and paper and writing the times down, which vary from fifty to fifty-eight, and you have to look up how to get a constant. Now how the fuck do you do that? Ah, yes, the great powers of the world-wide web! Quickly, you ask old uncle Google a few questions before opening up the calculator that's in the system already and begin to add the numbers up. They're no match for your amazing math skills and you divide them by the total number of results, which yields fifty-five point two.

The lies. THE LIES.

There has to be a petition for a minute to be fifty-five seconds long instead of sixty. The nerve of the scientific community, lying to you and the rest of the world like that for who knows how long! Whatever, you'll be the one to change that. Or maybe not, you're pretty sure you don't need to change it to fifty-five seconds, because really, that's just stupid.

Once you're done tossing the used paper away and closing the opened programs on you laptop, you sit back down, feeling like the air in the room is cold and clear enough for you and your roommate, who's probably going to bitch about it when he gets back, but eh, you can deal with that later. You sigh and decide to go and close the window, slightly leaning on the sill as you take a few more whiffs of fresh, delightful, probably cancerogenic city air to clear your mind a bit more since you're feeling the effects slowly wearing off and-

Wait.

You smell weed.

You most definitely smell weed. But not just any weed.

You smell weed that's not your weed.

And any weed that's not your weed means you have a potential lesson to give about proper kinds of said weed because holy shit, this is the smell of low quality. This, ladies and potheads, let it be known, that whatever you smell, is bad quality shit. Crime of the worst, most foul kind has come into contact with you, successfully tainted you and made you want to give the other dude or dudette a real fucking explanation of why they're doing the wrong thing and how they can fix it.

Quickly, you pinpoint the culprit, just one floor under you on the emergency stairs that the pretentios fuck is using as a balcony as you stare out the window like some kind of dummy; Eridan would probably say you are. Not the point though. You try to see how the person looks like, only making out a white shirt and a more muscular-ish build, so you're sure it's not a girl now, but you need to somehow adress him and his drug-influenced mind.

Now how the fuck do you do that without coming off like a god damn creep? Everyone's partying and you and him are probably the only idiots that aren't there, which is saying something, but you can't put your mind to what it is.

Whoever this dude is, he's on your turf and you're going to at least talk to him if it's the last thing you do in your weird life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am also aware that neither Skype nor Pesterchum works like that. For the sake of legibility though, I settled on that.


	3. The Carbon Monoxide Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get up and grab the window handle, turning it so it's facing horizontally and opening the window wide. Immediately, your lungs are filled with cool, refreshing air that makes you breathe a sigh of relief afterwards. Additionally, you smell something else in the air.
> 
> The fucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have no clue how college-level chemistry works, but there's probably a lot of lab work involved.
> 
> Also, the system: 9 years of elementary (6/7 - 14/15 y/o), 4 years of middle (18/19 y/o) then 4 more of highschool=college. Grading system in highschool is 1-10, 1-6 i think is fail, 8 and up is above average. And there we go. This system is dingus.

How long you stare at the guy, you don't know.

Your hands are turning cold, fingers numb and your nose is a little bit like a dog's, cold, but not really as wet, and your body starts to shiver a little. It takes about another minute for you to register that, but then another thought catches you. Why would you have to share your own stuff? Hell, you've paid that shit, he probably got his from like, a shitty dealer or someone alike. Or from a friend who got if from the same dealer, who cares. Okay, you do, because it smells so bad.

That thought processed, you close the window and sigh, then head out of the room to take a shower, already half-way through pulling your shirt off and tossing it onto the cupboard. Thank god no one's hogging said shower currently, so you make sure to thoroughly clean yourself up, including your hair which just sticks to your forehead, face, some even managing to reach your collarbones as you use up most of the hot water like a complete dick.

You really, really need a haircut. And sleep. Now you feel sleepy, why does weed always have that effect on you? You guess it's a thing and other people could have the same experience, or it's the hot water on you.

When you step out, the mirror and window are obviously fogged up, and you take your discolored mint green towel from the rack to dry yourself off. After you're done with that task, you hang it back up to dry, contemplating if you should shave. Your chin feels a little stubbly when you run your hand over it, standing in front of the mirror in your full, naked glory. Eventually though, you remember you're too tired to do that, so you just stick with the usual routine.

A search and a half for your brush later, you're brushing your hair towards the back to untangle it, then you lean forwards and shake your head before straightening back up and ruffling it. The hair dryer is tucked away neatly above the sink, and you take it to start drying your hair off, continuously ruffling and mussing it until you feel your scalp is completely dry and, most importantly, fluffy and sticking in every direction. You brush it again, this time in some sort of order, though it barely helps and you have to practically wrestle it so it gets away from your eyes.

Once that's done, you gather your clothes up and peek out the bathroom door to check if anyone's in the hallway so you wouldn't accidentally flash them with your ass and crotch. Not that that's never happened before, but you'd rather not traumatize the people you practically live with; _again_.

You throw a pair of pajama pants on, black with gray dots, or more like gray with lighter gray dots since the black is so washed out, turn your laptop off and lay down on your bed, taking your phone from the jacket pocket that you can reach. Ah, technology.

After checking every game you have, every social media app you have, your email, check the time (10:37pm) and check the set alarms, you put it down on the edge of your desk and turn over. God, you hair is not going to cooperate in the morning, you can feel it; but not like you care.

* * *

A week passes and you don't smell that shitty stuff again afterwards, thankfully, because you really couldn't stand even one whiff of it after having to put up with it every night. Who the hell does that guy think he is, king of the pompous danksters or something? Jeez, that title obviously belongs to you.

But, as the days pass, the schoolwork begins to accumulate little by little, which you're pretty okay with, just a few equations, minor things that you'd covered in the last year or middle school and are just quickly revising for the upcoming lessons. It's all about giving you a sense of false security and you know it. Sooner or later though, there's going to be so much work to do you'll barely be able to have time off to get a coffee.

It's fine as long as you stay one step ahead of everything, that never hurt you, and you've figured that it's honestly the best thing to do, unlike other people who frantically chase their heads back and forth to learn everything they need to pass one exam. Those who manage usually flunk in the laboratory though, since practical work is a lot different than writing theory down. Even you fuck up a few times, but mostly with washing the equipment; your middle school lab was deprived of a lot of glass tools, either stolen or shattered on the tiled floors.

Maybe after an hour from now, you'll take a little break, one - because it's healthy, and two - because you're hungry, and when you're hungry, you really can't stay focused. Possibly sooner though, unless... do you have enough cash for chinese food? That would so hit the spot right now.

Very quickly, you finish the exercise and check if it's correct, then grab your wallet from your jacket - still hanging off the chair - opening it and lo-and-behold, twenty big ones. Just enough for noodles and that beef thing; absolute heaven. You take your phone too, seeing a missed call and a few texts from Eridan (ID so lovingly labeled Eridank), deciding to just call him back.

It rings for a few moments and he finally picks up with a grumble of: "Yeah?"

"I was busy, sorry man, what'cha need?" You say, leaning back against the chair and twirling a pen between your fingers completely absent-mindedly.

"W-wondering if you had time for lunch," he says, like he just read your mind. Bless him.

"Oh, dude, get your ass over to my place an' I'll order us some chinese, how's that sound?" It's the little coincidences in life that really make your friendship work. If not make it sound a little homo.

Eridan sighs and probably rolls his eyes on the other end of the line, but agrees and says he'll be there in about thirty minutes, which is just enough time to order your food. You also tell him to bring his own cash - the fucking freeloader - and then hang up.

Anyway, back to ordering your precious food, you scroll through your contacts, because obviously the first thing you did before coming here was get the number of the pizza places, chinese food places and all the other kinds of delivered foodie goodies, then call said chinese place, order double noodles with chicken and then the mongolian style beef for yourself in like fifteen seconds and put your phone back down after giving them the directions they're supposed to take to the dorm. Man, these guys were fast with taking orders, but getting them somewhere took like an hour.

In about thirty minutes your phone recieves a message from Eridan, telling you that he's waiting inside, and you head downstairs to go get him because this complex of rooms and corridors is just too confusing, and you'd rather not have to waste additional time. He's already wearing his obnoxious scarf, which he won't admit to knitting himself, but you know he did, and those "skinny" jeans of his. His jacket is there at all times as well.

"Food ought'a be here in twenty," you say just as you unlock the dorm door and Eridan just nods, saying hi to one of the dormmates in the kitchen who is currently making ramen that you seen to recognize as sesame, sort of spicy, but you shrug off the rumble your stomach emits and lead Eridan to your room, flopping down onto your bed.

He's mostly silent, just taking his scarf off (which you take and wrap around your neck to impersonate him horribly), until you eventually recieve your food through some slightly confusing chain of events and dig right in. Occasionally, you exchange a comment or two, mostly about school, plus Eridan's anecdote about how he messed up and sat through a whole class without realizing it was the wrong class, but didn't figure that out until he was halfway through the lesson and taking notes when it was too late. Pure fucking genius, you say, like he couldn't notice you weren't there with him.

When the boxes are put away, you remember something that's been bugging you all week, or rather, _someone_ that's been bugging you all week. Serious business.

"Bro check this, this dude's been all over the lil' balcony out under mine, motherfucker be like... dankin' on my turf," you explain to the best of your abilities, sprawled on your bed with your stomach very, very satisfied and content, head just barely turned to Eridan on your chair. "'S fuckin' with me 'cuz his smells real bad."

Eridan obviously seems like you're telling him the stupidest reason to be upset for; which it probably is, but you wouldn't admit that. "Tell him to stop? Go share some of yours? I don't fuckin' kno-know, Gam, people are allow-allowed to smoke whatev-ver they w-want, you're gonna hav-ve t' figure that one out yourself."

You pout at him a little, sloppily crossing your arms over your chest that's rising and falling steadily under them. "Fuck no, but gettin' real pissed at him might help."

"Gamz, no, don't you _dare_ start fights-" Eridan quickly says, eyes a little bit surprised at your sudden decision. "Not ov-over a bit of mary-jane, they'll throw ya outta the block."

Oh, right. How come you forgot the whole prohibition of drugs thing? Now he has a point, damnit.

"Then the fuck am I supposed t' do? Guy doesn't go to parties, don't do shit except fuckin' smoke under my goddamn window." You grumble, then slowly flip yourself over onto your stomach, albeit with a slightly discontent exhale until you grab your pillow and shove it under your chin.

"W-well... you could just talk to him," Eridan then suggests, but you don't really like the idea of going up to the guy and telling him that his weed smells bad and that he should feel bad and smoke somewhere else, so you shake your head. Stubborn? Definitely. But so is Eridan, to some degree, which only slightly rivals yours.

"Then figure it out yourself, I'm not your babysitter!" He says and crosses his arms in a way only he can; snobby, yet friendly in some weird and loving way.

Though, should you seriously talk to that guy? He seems just about as strong as you, and, well, you do like challenge, but you don't want to go around with a broken nose or something like that. Unneeded injuries are exactly what they are. Unneeded.

You stay quiet for a little while, eventually sitting up and lean on the desk as Eridan gives you one of his 'special' looks, accompanied by a nosy "what?", eyebrow quirked high, lips curled in only one corner, which his nose accentuated so well. It's a little bumped just under the bridge and the tip curved a bit upwards and pointed. That look you crowned as 'partying bitchface', because 'resting' just doesn't have a better antonym.

"Nothin', jeez. This is more comfy," you snort in reply, just sprawling your arms on the desk in front of him with an over exaggerated sigh of content as he cringes at your grammatical capabilities.

"More comfortable, Gam. Wo-would it kill ya to use some grammar sometime?" He says and leans away, still eyeing you in his own, sort of bitchy way. "Jeez, remind me how ya managed to get through English?"

"Fuckin' magic." You grin and he just sighs and runs a hand through his hair, a little bit mussed up from the gel and the wear through maybe the second day now. It's so easy to know when he's being lazy. All the time, if you aren't mistaken.

Well, no fun lasts forever, and when his phone makes a little noise that he answers to with a text, you know he'll be taking his leave. He informs you that yes, it's his boyfriend and it's " ** _none a ya business, Gam_** " when you ask what they'll be doing, though you obviously mean it as a joke, and Eridan knows it. Still, he's Eridan, and he'll never settle for not having the last word.

He picks his jacket up and quickly puts it on, followed by that godawful scarf that he's so proud of and wraps it around his neck, the ends hanging down his shoulders and over his chest, then gets his bag, swings it over his shoulder and you lead him out the door, downstairs and all the way to the bus stop. It's a bit chilly, you contemplate that maybe you could start wearing long sleeves. Eridan shivers coldly just at the sight of you. His problem, you tell him. Jokingly.

The bus arrives in about ten minutes, which you waste with small talk about the upcoming school weeks and months, Eridan adding a little bit about how his boyfriend is actually a real sweetheart and you give him a little poke just to mock how "motherfuckin' squishy" he'd gotten. It's a nice side to him though, you're happy as long as your main bro is happy. You wonder if he'll let you meet the lucky dude, honestly. Probably not, it's Eridan.

You two say your goodbyes and give each other a quick bro-hug, then head in each your own direction, but to a common goal. To study your asses off.

* * *

October passes fairly quickly and with not a lot of exams, but by the end of it, you're having a slightly difficult time keeping up with a few subjects, needing to spend more and more time in your room and keep a balance between that and going to your lectures so you don't fall behind even more. It's becoming more stressful, more pressuring and a lot more challenging to take in all the information, especially when two days a week are basically six hours of laboratory work with barely any pauses, then a lunch break, then an extra hour to clean it all up. The other days are filled with lab safety, learning about chemicals and processes, learning to use equations and figuring out various things needed to understand this level of chemistry.

You had mapped out every week until December carefully, spending every minute as efficiently as possible and as productively as you can, making sure to study, go to classes, eat and keep a healthy sleeping schedule. How long do you need to survive this limbo of torture and agony? Somewhere until the last two weeks of December, where there was actually going to be time to take off, no exams, and subjects that you are technically allowed to miss.

God, what you'd give for some free time right now, hunched over your desk with a notebook in front of you, your head supported on your arm and your other hand holding a mechanical pencil with which you're currently solving an equation.

Sure your grades are great, having an average of 8.6, but you could go for a chill-out, really just lift your arms and lean back, not even care about the world. Instead, your world is now revolving around numbers and letters and measurements so precise they could be used for dissecting a fucking bacteria cell.

And those are technically fake as shit since they don't really have organelles, just DNA that floats around, like hey, look at my fucking nucleotide bases and phosphorous shit with the oxygen and hydrogen and carbon and _oh, wow_ , you're starting to apply it to everything. You really should stop before you hurt yourself.

After finishing the equation and checking the answer, you really do lift your arms and lean back in your chair, stretching and feeling your spine crackle and grind, which you find very soothing after it was practically killing you. 

Now you need a break.

Fuck that schedule. But only for today, you're not going to compromise your schoolwork too much. Maybe you should incorporate a chill-out day into your week? You need to think about that, it sounds pretty good to you, actually, so you take a sticky note from the edge of the desk and scribble 'make a free day' on it and slap it on your shelf.

Just now you notice that it's really impossible to breathe in the room, probably from all the brain juices evaporating from your head and IQ. Or maybe just because you've used up a lot of the oxygen in the air, which were replaced with carbon dioxide, thankfully not carbon monox- no, stop! Jesus, just settle on the fact that you need air, badly.

You get up and grab the window handle, turning it so it's facing horizontally and opening the window wide. Immediately, your lungs are filled with cool, refreshing air that makes you breathe a sigh of relief afterwards. Additionally, you smell something else in the air.

_The fucker._

You scramble to look through the window, but it's quickly apparent to you that it's fucking cold as shit outside and holy fuckballs and motherfucking fuck, fuck, okay, jacket, quickly put that on. Maybe you really should switch from T-shirts to long sleeves to keep a little warmer.

Anyway, your main objective is to tell this asshole to piss off or get some better stuff on his hands, otherwise you'll have to intervene. Wait, isn't this technically an intervention? Stop overthinking, holy shit, just say something to the dude. Wait, are you nervous? You're fucking nervous why the fuck-

Then, to your horror, you notice that he's turned up to you, probably heard you open the window, and he's smirking, the pretentious prick on a cactus, to which you answer with a blank, semi-angry stare, not really much of a glare. Now what? Staredown into oblivion? If that's what he wanted, sure.

There's no way of telling how long you're staring at each other, possibly a full five minutes before he blows the smoke right at you - which doesn't even reach you halfway, but the smell sure does - and you pull away from the window sill and retreat back into your room to roll one of yours. Fuck no were you going to play it his way.

Time to step up the game and really show him how you do it.


	4. A Douchey Illusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee takes the plunge through the window and lo-and-behold, stuff is happening.

It takes you about fifteen minutes to get the joint rolled, including the added few to pick out your snacks and gather up the courage to actually go talk to the guy. Look, you tell yourself, if you have the joint rolled and you're halfway out the window, you can go up to that guy and just snarkily tell him that he has the wrong stuff on his hands and to try some of his. You, Gamzee Makara himself, in the flesh, are nervous.

Finally though, you crawl out the window, bag of chips and bag of gummy bears rustling in your hands as you carefully maneuver yourself so you don't squish your jointy masterpiece, then slowly head down the metallic sounding stairs while the guy stares at you. By the look of it, he's just started smoking his own, and he lowers it down as you come closer, putting it out for the time being.

You step up to him and hold your hand out for the lighter you forgot, looking up at him and-

Are those _shades?_ Is he honestly wearing shades in the dark? And on top of that, they're the weirdest shape you have ever seen, triangular, pointing away from his face like some character from an anime. Now you're seriously thinking of not sharing. Well, then again-

"Yo," he says and cuts your thoughts off, his lips turned up into just the slightest bit of a smirk as he pokes your palm, making you flinch and pull it away.

The _gall_.

You're taller than him, but just by an inch or two, though he does seem more muscular, probably works out or something. His shoulders are pretty broad, his arms look strong and his whole image gives you the impression of major douchebag, with the shades and the white polo shirt with the popped collar. This is probably a stupid idea.

"A'ight, that shit, stop it," you say, pointing at the ashtray that he's set on the window sill he's leaning on. He just keeps the smirk, but it doesn't lift your spirits at all. "Ya gonna either stop, or get some better stuff."

"Oh yeah? Who's makin' me?" He asks, and you groan internally. The fucker's from even further south than you are, and your guess is Texas. You also guess he's asking for your name.

"Gamzee," you say, placing the snacks on the sill as he holds his own hand out. Okay, fine, you'll shake it.

"Dirk," he introduces himself, and his handshake is pretty solid, so you figure he's quite an honest person. A handshake tells you a lot, even if it's not always the correct assumption.

"So, what's wrong with my stuff?" He then asks, making you roll your eyes and just pull your own out, holding it out to him and he gladly takes it, actually thanking you with a silent nod. Yeah, he better be thankful.

He pulls out a lighter and puts your little masterpiece into his mouth, then lights it carefully, taking small puffs just like you would. At least he knows how it's done, which is surprising since he obviously can't pick out his own weed. When he's done and puts the lighter away, he continues with puffing, then passes the joint to you with a smile as he holds the smoke in his lungs.

"Yeah, good shit, ain't it?" You say with a shit-eating grin, taking your own few hits just as he breathes the smoke out. Obviously, he likes it.

"Fuck, man," he says, nodding quickly and sort of grimacing at the stronger taste. Yeah, that's what you get for smoking bad stuff, you little- okay, time to stop being an asshole for five minutes.

For the remainder of the joint, you're both quiet, just smoking it silently with either occasionally coughing or giving a little chuckle. Of course you were going to laugh like idiots, what did you expect? It's weed for fuck's sake.

He finishes it off and then stares at the ashtray in awe, like some huge revelation has just happened in his head, then he picks it up and inspects it, staring intently at it. You wonder if he's even noticing that his shades are on and making everything darker than it should be. It does seem to click in there and he reaches up to remove them, pushing them up into his near-perfectly styled hair. How do you even do that with your hair?

"Motherfucker, you hair be all like... defyin' the laws of physiology," you mumble your thoughts out loud and it makes both of you snort and giggle while he lifts the ashtray a bit more.

"Physiolo- bro, _physics_." He corrects you and it takes you a while to get it, but when you do, you wheeze and snort with laughter, eventually calming down and taking a few breaths. Man, that's funny. Took your breath away there for a moment.

Alas, he's still focused on the ashtray, seemingly entranced by it as he places it back down onto the window sill and crouches down to be at eye level with its rim. You wonder if he's the hyperactive kind when high, since his eyes are obviously wide, mouth just slightly ajar in awe, until he exclaims something absolutely expected.

"You could bake cookies in this."

The torrent of laughter that follows makes you double over and clutch at your stomach, probably loud enough to reach the whole complex, and Dirk just stares at you, blinking slowly.

"Dude-" he says and straightens up, then points at the tray, subconsciously tapping on the sill with his fingers. "You could make huge cookies." Yep, he's the genius, philosophical kind, you're sure of it.

You, yourself, are the completely relaxed kind, the one that giggles at every little thing and yet also thinks about many others, but always turns out to not give a single fuck about them. It's all about the heat of the moment for you. Obviously not for him, but he's surely not going to invite you into his apartment will he?

He eventually leaves it be when he sees that you're preoccupied with laughter and joins you, grabbing his stomach and wheezing. What were you even doing? Because you're laughing even harder at him, and he's laughing harder at you, and it becomes that classic cycle of laughing at eachother until you're nearly pissing yourself from it.

When you finally calm down, wiping tears away from your eyes and trying to catch your breath after the best laugh you've had in a long while, it dawns on the both of you that you're cold and that it's pretty dark, meaning you should put on some more clothes and go inside. However, you ignore the dawning on and sit on the window sill, leaning against the window and looking at eachother with large grins.

"You're alright, man," you say and nod as you nudge his leg a little bit with your foot. "I thought you was a real motherfuckin' douche."

Dirk snorts and sticks his tongue out through his teeth and pulls his legs up to cross them, pushing the window open a little bit which lets you see inside. It's basically the same room as yours, so you don't bother with inspecting it much, only acknowledging a few drawings of various rectangles, which you take as something that belongs into architecture. Is Dirk studying architecture?

"Hey, what do ya study?" You ask and point inside the room, making him turn slowly to follow the point of your finger and nearly slipping off the window sill clumsily.

He then chuckles and shakes his head, smiling at you as he readjusts himself and leans back against the frame. "That's my roommate's. I'm an engineer."

_Refrain from making the joke, Gamzee Makara, refrain from making the-_

"So I can trust ya." Fucking hell, now you've gone and done it. He's going to punch you in the fucking face and you're going to have to- laugh at him because this time, he does fall, right onto the metal, but is too occupied with laughter and rolling around, clutching his stomach.

Frankly, you're not in a much different condition, except that your balance isn't failing you. About a minute later, when you both regain your breaths and maybe some IQ, you're left looking at each other, pointing and taking soft breaths to emphasize the fact that you and him are both idiots. In the best way, honestly.

There's definitely a connection between you two. Either that, or you're hungry, but it's more likely that it's the latter. He can see your little bit of confusion and then points at the snacks set on the window with a raised brow that says "Those?".

You give him a nod and he goes straight for the chips, carefully opening them and taking a triangular piece of goodness out and shoving it into his mouth, then passes the bag to you and you gladly do the same, but with about five pieces. Your friends say you have a big mouth, but you could disagree. Somehow.

The bag is empty in a matter of a minute and the gummy bears quickly follow, though it takes Dirk a while to get over the fact that you're committing mass genocide amongst bears of the gelatinous kind. He succumbs quite quickly to the sugary goodness after he deals with that. Actually, he's the one that goes and starts biting heads off of them, which is some sort of an accomplishment in mood change.

Oh yeah.

You're gonna be friends.

While you're still nice and baked, him probably more than you are, you talk about various interests, and you learn that Dirk is a talented individual for making little pointless gizmos and gadgets that do absolutely nothing else than annoy you from a distance. Engineers, can you even _trust_ them? He also tells you that he likes anime and, okay, really, My Little Pony? He's just a big buff teddy bear, because fuck he has to work out for those muscles.

Not that.

You've been eyeing him.

Or.

Something.

You're just observant, that's all. Nothing wrong with a little inner dialogue spiced with a compliment or two. Besides those two things, he also tells you that he takes interest in robotics, but more as a hobby, though the engineering part does help lots. Of course, neither of you know where you'll actually end up in life, but you agree on one thing: you'll sure as hell find out.

Deep talk about life over, you tell him a little about your own interests, which include hanging around with people you know, school and sleeping. In fact, you point out, you'd rather be sleeping right now, because even when high you can feel the fatigue of doing so much schoolwork, the bags under your eyes are quite an obvious representation of that. Dirk agrees, even though he seems to get more sleep than you, but yeah, he agrees.

Eventually you decide to just sit silently on the window, wait until either of you say something relatively smart to debate or laugh over, but it never comes, so you just sort of... excuse yourself slightly drowsily.

"A'ight, man, 's been great an' all, but I'm up an' outta juice for tonight. We gotta have this shit again, but hell if I'll be standin' in five minutes." You chuckle softly and not-so-elegantly clamber off the sill. The effect of the weed isn't that strong when you're not distracted, so you simply say you'll be seeing him again sometime and head back up the stairs and to your room.

Now why'd that happen so fast? You don't know, but you're so sleepy you could hibernate for about a month, plus it'd save you from the amounts of schoolwork, which would be practically heavenly, in your opinion.

So, that said, you pull your pajamas on and flop onto your bed with a sigh, then look up at the notebooks and pens on your desk with a disdainful expression, not wanting to deal with the work at all, but you know you'll eventually have to. It's going to be hard, but you'll manage somehow.

You're asleep before you know it, snoozing away happily and peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry fuckin' Christmas, brohams.
> 
> (Psst, the next chapter will have some sweet stuff.)


	5. The Fucking Cocoa Compatibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee, upon returning from school, is forced out of his dorm and takes refuge in Dirk's.
> 
> I ain't telling you everything, that would be spoiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so reason why this is belated: I had a phone. It just blackscreened me one day. I then got a new one. 2k words of chapter 5 were on the old one, which refuses to turn on even after practically babying it. I remain pissed to this day and if this chapter is shit, it's because it's filled with my anger.
> 
> PS: I also accidentally typed two chapters as one, so 2 (3) chapters in one day is my sorry to you.

The next few weeks are filled with a lot of studying, little free time and even less sociality.

You barely get to see your friend outside of school, because either you're busy, or he is, and you don't have many other people to hang out with besides the other people in the dorm and your roommate. Even with them though, it makes for barely a few minutes of fun before you have to go back and practice all of your godawful laboratorial things.

Eridan doesn't pay many visits, but if he has a good excuse like studying or being on a date, you may as well just pass it off. He's too busy, you can understand that, and you're sure you'll start hanging out when the first exam terms end, no need to get pissed over that. A good friend is what he is.

Now, what are you going to do? Classes are over for the day and you've decided to take the day off after walking out the doors of your school, meaning you have to do a few things good for yourself, like grocery shopping and getting yourself some food immediately, because you're hungry, having not eaten since school started this morning. The price you pay for forgetting to eat breakfast.

There's a little grocery store in an alley behind the park, you remember, so you settle on that after checking your funds and quickly making your way there, which is to say after you light yourself a cigarette. You finish it outside the store and then head inside, picking out a few necessities like milk and eggs and some vegetables and fruits, which other people are probably going to use up, but hey, as long as they share. And as long as you can steal their food back.

You're done in a matter of twenty minutes, seeing as the store isn't really that big and you also bought yourself a slice of pizza because hey, hunger is a terrible thing, so after you pay for everything, you head to the bus stop and wait for the right bus to take you back to the student home. When you step off, it dawns on you that you didn't buy any coffee, which you are now in need of, badly. The cafe should be fine for now, so you run inside your dorm to drop the things off and then back across the street, straight to the cafe.

The building is as before, a brick outside with signs advertising the various services it offers, and the main entrance borders the parking lot with the cafe lounge, which houses a green rug, torn on the edges from the use it was intended for and a little dirty. There's a few tall tables, no chairs so people have to stand, but when you walk inside, the place is actually quite cozy, seeing as it is a lounge. There's a few sofas, barstools along the counter and a few small, rectangular tables for two, and a problem arises, because you don't know where to sit.

Until you see who's on the sofa.

Lo-and-behold, the douchebag himself, already grinning at you as you step closer and flop yourself down onto the cushion beside him, nudging him a little. Dirk, that's his name, yeah, you remember correctly.

"'Sup?" He greets you, nudging you back, mug in the hand that's less likely to get nudged and spill whatever the contents of the mug are. Is he-

He's drinking cocoa.

This giant pansy is literally, one hundred percent, in his twenties, drinking cocoa.

Once you get over the fact with a little inner laugh, you shrug, not really knowing how to answer that question. What _is_ up? "Nothin' much, bro. Just got my ass outta school. 'Sup with you?"

"Same thing, I ought'a say." He chuckles, taking a little sip of his _fucking cocoa_. Seriously, you really expected him to be more of a cappuccino type, maybe?

Just then, the nice waitress interrupts your little exchange, and you order the coffee you so desperately need, which gets to your table in almost no time at all. Of course, being the nice and civilized person you so are, you thank the nice lady for it, and she just smiles and walks away.

"Aww, well ain't you sweet?" Dirk teases as you pick up a bag of sugar and sweeten your coffee, just for an extra little dose of energy, which will probably do absolutely nothing. However, Dirk's teasing isn't bothersome at all.

"Give 'em some credit, man. They go through a lotta shit," you say, rolling your eyes and picking your cup up, taking a much needed, slow sip, enjoying the deliciousness of it. Black gold, honestly.

He just nods along and sips at his cocoa silently, then speaks up again, looking at you with his distinct half-smirk. "So, how's school an' all that?" He asks, to which you first reply with a shrug and an 'eh' noise, very elegantly.

"Doin' a'ight. A lil' stressed, but 's manageable. You?" You reply and lean back into the soft seat of the sofa. What are the small ones for two people called again? Loveseats? Jeez, who the fuck came up with that? Probably the same dude that invented high heels or something.

"Same ol', same ol'. We get bored a lot in class." He snickers proudly and pulls a tiny little gadget from his pocket, holding it out to you until you take it into your palm. Now what the fuck is this thing?

"Bet yer wonderin'," No, no, of course not, "what it does." This guy, this guy is reading your mind. Okay, jokes aside, what _does_ it do.

The thing just looks like an absolute mess on two wheels, one's even turned perpendicularly to the box that serves as its body, and one's parallel to it, while there's bits of electrical tape stuck to it in some places and other things you can't recognise. It's like a mad scientist and a kid tried to make a toy, but ultimately failed.

"So, there's a lil' motor in there that rotates this axle right here." He points to a small rod sticking out of the top, which has a circle of some kind of small, steel cog attached to it. "An' this piece a lead t' give it some nice weight, so when I turn it on..." He reaches to its underside, where he finds a tiny switch, flicking it and placing the gadget on the table.

The thing starts spinning like a monkey on speed.

And it's the coolest thing.

"Centrifugal force does the rest," he says proudly, grinning and watching it go while you sit there, sipping your coffee and making a gesture of approval by putting your index and thumb together to form an O shape between them. Nice. Because it's cool when things do things.

"Nice," you say, smiling or more like grinning, finding it just the most entertaining thing until it starts slowing down a bit, then speeds up again and slows. "The fuck?"

"Battery's runnin' dry. We've fucked around with this thing all day, let the bugger loose everywhere; hallways, tables, professor's desk, I could go on," Dirk explains as he catches it right before it tosses itself off the table and turns it off, putting it back into the safety of his pocket.

This guy's pretty cool, you think as you set your halved cup of coffee, then stretch a little and feel your back pop, but just feel, it's not loud. People that pop their bones loudly are so rude.

Anyway, what were you thinking about? Right, Dirk's a chill guy that is probably worthy of being in your circle of friends. Maybe not super friendly at first, but you can see yourself being friends with him. Unless he doesn't want to be friends with you, which you highly doubt, but also respect the decision if he were to express the thought.

"So," he says and cuts your thoughts off quickly and efficiently, and you give him your attention, because the guy obviously wants to say something, "what d'ya do? Guessin' yer a student too?"

"Yeah, that ought'a be me. I'm in that chemistry school right over the road from ya. 'S funny how many people from those dorms are all up in that lil' cluster a schools." You chuckle and he gives you that cool half-smirk of his. It's remarkable how much it fits him and how well he can pull it off, honestly.

"I ain't seen ya around last year though. Ya new?" He then asks, and you're starting to realise that this guy is older than you, probably by quite a bit. Okay, quite a bit here is like a year or two. You nod as you sip your coffee again.

"Cute," he simply comments, which makes you a little confused, a little flattered and a little angry, because no one calls you, Gamzee Makara cute without an explanation. "First years are so cute after ya get past the fact that they're confused lil' bastards that constantly ask where the classrooms are."

Wow, someone's a sassy pompous ass.

Nice.

"What year you in, bro?" You ask out of curiosity, now out of your coffee, so you set the cup back down and lean against the cushions again.

"Third," he says, and your math isn't that far off, dude's two years older than you. Not that you mind, your brother is too and you can't complain about something like that as long as he's cool with hanging out with you. Wait, that sounded like you _want_ his attention now. You mean **if** he's cool with it.

"What, ya think I'm too cool fer ya now? Nah, yer a chill dude, as far as I know." He chuckles after your little round of silence, and you smile, giving him a shrug. Because you also feel a bit embarrassed by the fact that yes, yes you thought that.

"Thanks, man. You're a'ight too," you say, reminding yourself that you should pay for your coffee before you forget, so you wave the nice waitress over, handing her the money and Dirk does the same, paying for his _fucking cocoa_.

You're never going to let the idea that a guy like him drinks cocoa. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but the image is just hilarious in your head.

Both of you sit there in silence for a little bit longer, then your phone buzzes in your pocket, showing a text message from your roommate asking when you're getting home and if you're the one that brought food. You reply with 'I dunno' and 'yes, don't eat it'. No one steals your food unless you've been personally notified before the use.

He just says 'cool' back and you put your phone away into the safety of your pocket while Dirk gives you a little questioning look, brow raised. "What's up?" He asks, just out of curiosity.

"Roommate's askin' when I'm gettin' home. Guessin' he's there already," you say, then look at the time, which is now around four, thanks to your great waste of time chatting and drinking with Dirk. Then again, it's not a waste of time if you're productive, right? Deepening a friendship is progress, is it not?

"Ya wanna head back then?" He suggests with a little smile, already grabbing his jacket from the armrest where he'd left it.

You give a nod and zip your hoodie back up, because you didn't bother taking it off in the first place, then stand and look at him. He's almost as tall as you, lacking maybe an inch or two, but he's still pretty tall. Maybe you would've noticed that if you weren't stoned last time. You tend to pay attention when not in la-la land state.

"We ought'a hang out more, what d'ya think?" You ask and he nods, gesturing to the door as if wanting to say: 'after you', to which you answer by walking towards the gestured to door after waving to the nice waitress lady.

"We could get some food sometime. If we got the cash," he jokes, nudging you sort of playfully, which makes you give a little chuckle,and you make your way towards the home, making casual conversation about the food the both of you made while you were high. What an intelligent duo you are.

Dirk separates from you a floor earlier, seeing as he _lives_ down there, and you go back to your dorm, unlocking that and then heading to your room. The door is unlocked - a sign that your roommate is home - and you kick it open to make a grand entrance, but it results in a high pitched shriek and a whole avalanche of curse words, all in under three seconds.

... What?

"Gam-!" Yells the high pitch voiced person, who then clears his throat and, oh. "Wh-wh-what are you doing here?!"

"Eribro? Karkat?" You mumble, eyes wide and brows high as you stare at him and your roommate, who are scrambling around on each other, on the bed, with Karkat's legs tangled in Eridan's shirt because somehow, he's managed to hook them under there. You're not sure how, but he has. Also how did Eridan shriek that high in pitch?

"Gamzee, scram-!" Karkat yells at you over Eridan's shoulder, the brightest blush spreading over his cheeks. Huh, he looks even smaller under him, honestly. Wait, right, you're getting yelled at-

And your cue is when a pillow hits your face and you back out of the room with a smug grin on your face as you give Eridan a hand pistol and Karkat yells some more curses at you until you _finally_ get out and close the door. Now what are you supposed to do? Stand outside while your best friend and roommate are in there, possibly, probably and literally having sex? No, that would be weird.

What to do, what to do.

You're not hungry, so food isn't something you need, the other people in the dorm are busy and you don't know them that well, so that's off the table too.

Eventually, you remember that Dirk mentioned you could spend some time together, which totally doesn't sound gay, nah, but yeah, you could go knock at his door.

So you do, going back out of the dorm and heading down a floor, figuring which dorm Dirk's in pretty quickly, since it's right underneath yours. The entire dorm has a doorbell, which you ring and some really tired looking girl with messy hair and sweatpants opens the door, and you explain to her that you're looking for Dirk. She points you to the direction of the room and locks the door behind you while you walk to said door and knock.

A tall, well, still not as tall as you, but pretty tall guy opens the door, long black hair in a ponytail and dressed in a tanktop and some comfortable looking sweatpants. He seems a little confused as he looks you over.

"May I help you?" He asks and then gets interrupted by the one and only, Dirk Strider pushing him aside. Rude, but alright, let them have their roommate moments.

"What are you doin' here? Ya miss me already?" He jokes and nudges his roommate and then you, both playfully, then steps aside to let you enter the room, which is identical to yours, except for the decorations.

And man, those decorations.

The My Little Pony posters really bring out all the other anime posters.

"Naw, my friend an' roommate are suckin' face up in my room," you explain and just snort at how much other merchandise is on the shelves. Oh wait, you haven't introduced yourself to the other guy.

"Right, Gamzee Makara, bro. Gam for short," you say and hold your hand out, which he shakes with a smile. His face is similar to Dirk's; high cheekbones, angular build, but in a much more sophisticated way, no facial hair at all. His eyes seem quite large proportionately, almost feminine-like and a deep blue colour, the nose between them long and straight. His lips are thin, his smile is wide, and his teeth are practically gleaming white when he shows them. 

"Horuss, Horuss Zahhak. And i would prefer if you didn't shorten my name." He chuckles and shakes your hand with a firm, solid grip. And why doesn't he want his name shortened, you wonder? Horuss, Hor- _oh, **oh**_ right. It sounds like the other thing. Took you a while.

You snort at him, then look at Dirk again, who's taken refuge on the bed under all those posters, watching you both with a smug little grin. What a grade-A asshole. Though he then pats the bed, inviting you to sit down beside him, so you do, your long legs taking up at least half of the space between the beds.

"Sorry t' burst in like this though," you say as you sit, honestly feeling like you're intruding in on them. Which is a very rude thing of you to do, and you make a mental note to call next time. Wait, do you even have the guy's number?

"Oh, no, you're not at all," they say, almost in unison, Dirk with a bit more of an accent ("naw, y'aint at all"). Horuss seems a lot more sophisticated than him, it's just something about him that makes you respect him immediately. Not that you don't respect Dirk, but wow, how does Horuss do it?

You snort in slight amusement and a little bit sarcastically, because of course, you still feel like you're intruding, which is rude, but then Horuss cuts off your train of thought by speaking again.

"I should be getting ready for a few evening classes anyway, you'll have your privacy." It's like he's teasing and being polite at the same time, _how does he do it_.

"Yeah, astrology nerd," Dirk says, leaning back against the wall beside the bed, pulling his laptop up onto his lap and opening it up. "You gonna show off too?"

"Of course," he says and gives him a slightly cocky-looking smirk, now looking through his little wardrobe and picking out something more suited for classes. Sweatpants are not a way to show up at school, fuck no.

Horuss then removes his shirt, and you can't lie, you really can't, the dude is pretty good looking, with a nice build, but not ripped-like. His shoulders aren't that broad, but his muscles are clearly seen when he moves and pulls a white button-up shirt on, each movement is just so perfect anatomy-wise. You can bet Dirk is much the same.

"What, ya gonna cop a feel?" Dirk teases as he catches you looking him over, and you promptly flip him off while Horuss is pulling on a pair of black jeans, tucking the shirt into them and then adding a black vest onto said shirt. Wow, just wow. How does he go from slob to posh that fast?

And just as an added bonus he puts his hair into a ponytail, while you're still stuck on the whole no homo thing. It's not like you're checking him out, though. Anatomy studies, let's go with that, you think.

He then packs his bag, a pretty, brown leather one, with a few imprinted patterns around the edges and dark blue, indigo-like highlights on them. That is obviously real leather, and you must say, it's really cool.

"Alright, Dirk, I trust you'll be awake when I come back?" He asks, grabbing his phone and keys off his desk and shoves them into his pocket, then steps towards the door, but doesn't open it yet, first awaiting an answer.

"Yeah, man. Have fun, nerd," Dirk retorts, not even looking up from his laptop, searching for whatever he had on his mind. You can't tell, because you're not rude and you don't look at someone's screen if they don't give you permiss- oh, look, My Little Pony.

The eyeroll is _totally_ aesthetic.

Horuss leaves while you're thinking about your manners and scoffs at you two, quickly absconding before Dirk keeps him any longer with his intelligent comments. What a pleasant guy though, seems like you're making a whole social web now.

"I was plannin' on finishin' this season, if ya don't mind," Dirk interrupts you and you look over, then just shrug and take the earbud he's offering you and stick it in your ear. Those are probably so no one hears him watching it.

Even if he does sing the theme song under his breath.

You really don't have any commentary about this, it's just what it is, honestly. Two adults watching a cartoon made for children, and it isn't even on an anime level, which you bet Dirk watches too, those shades are probably even custom made. Which doesn't surprise you in the slightest, why would it?

A few episodes later, the season is finished, but Dirk manages to hold himself back from actually starting the next one, after a little bit of wrestling and convincing him that no, no you are not about to watch a full season of My Little Pony with him, man, I love you, but hell no.

"Then what d'ya wanna do?" He asks, exiting the site and leaving it on good ol' Google while you think over the options.

You pause for dramatic effect after grinning.

"Ya wanna get high?"

His grin is equally stupid, but he nods and you nod back before clambering up and over him, standing up again. This is going to be one hell of an evening, just you and your bro chilling out, probably watching a movie, should be harmless enough, right? Possible noises from above, but you couldn't care less, and you crank that window open and clamber outside.

You aren't really aware of Dirk glancing at you just as you swing your leg over the sill.


	6. The Frustration Expression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Gamzee have a great idea of watching porn while high. Handjobs ensue and this fic is suddenly rated mature. Have fun, kiddies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you this chapter has some good shit. And the next one too.

The sky is just lightly tinted with orange as you get up and pull the window open, crawling out of it and going up the two small flights of stairs, thanking those two lovemakers that they left the window open, probably by accident. Or they didn't care. The evening is still young and you're sure it's going to be a great one.

A little part of your brain is telling you that you're being rude for intruding on your friend's and roomie's quality time, but another part is telling you how else are you going to get the good weed? So, with that in mind, you make your entrance, pulling the window open and yeah, there's the shriek again.

"Gamzee, what the fuck?!" Karkat yells as you look through the drawer of your desk and pull that neat little box out. Thankfully, they still have their underwear on. Even if they are grinding on each other.

"Just gettin' my shit, you guys go on, don't mind me," you say, searching around the box to make sure you have everything. Wow, you need to get mor-

" **GAM-!** " Eridan then yells at you, very loudly, and you practically fly out the window and back down to Dirk's room after giving them both a little thumbs up and a grin.

Meanwhile, Dirk's been clicking around on the laptop casually, going through his files, movies, animes and whatnot, eventually settling on pulling up a playlist of assorted music he likes, which consists of mostly old-sounding house, maybe a bit of Daft Punk inspired shit or something like that. You like it, so you just get to work. The beat even makes you sway a little from side to side on the chair.

The lovely joint is rolled in a few minutes though, and you both get up to smoke it outside. No one wants trouble with an inspection and confiscation. Possibly some charges.

"Ya got an idea fer a movie?" He asks with a sort of choked up voice after inhaling his few puffs, holding them in his chest as you do the same. That's right, movies have to be chosen very carefully when you're high. There is one that you remember never watching, but hearing about, something about the people filming it, then animating over the actual footage. It's supposedly trippy as shit, now you just have to remember the title.

"Wakin' Life." You got it. At least you think so, but Dirk shrugs and exhales slowly, then makes a little face.

"Nah, seen it. Both high an' not high," he says and you exhale as well before giving a jokingly annoyed whine while you start to think of another thing to watch.

He beats you to it though.

"Porn." This guy thinks just like you do and you're nodding along quickly before taking another few drags and passing the joint to him. Maybe you should invest in a bong. Or bring the one your brother got you that's still at home.

"I am gonna love this," you mumble after crawling back into the room, Dirk stumbling right behind you and using you as a little bit of leverage to balance himself, then you both somehow manage to get back down onto the bed, lying side by side with the laptop on one of your thighs and one of his.

He goes ahead and opens a few of the videos that look decent in new tabs, you just dazedly watching him with a grin and occasionally point at one of the videos on the page, which he opens up as well. There's no decided category you're looking through, just the featured ones, completely at random.

Dirk then plays the first one he had opened, and you sit quietly, mesmerized mostly by the pizza the guy brought and no one even touched it. Who the hell leaves a perfectly good pizza like that to get cold, _**who**_? Oh, the humanity.

You move onto the next one after getting thoroughly infuriated by the wasted pizza, complaining about for half of the next video, with comments like: "Yeah, _this_ one didn't waste any pizza," and "I would kill for that guy's ass".

That comment comes from Dirk, actually.

It makes you wonder in which way he means it, and not two minutes later, he's got a new comment.

"Nice dick," he says just as the guy is fucking the girl, with her squealing like a pig under him, Jesus christ. If there's a turn off for you, it's the girl squealing and whining like that.

Then again, you start wondering why he pointed the other detail out.

The video is quickly abandoned and you move on to the other, which is tons better, both of the actors, if that's alright to call them, not making much noise, just the perfect balance of moans and all that good stuff. The only thing you want to skip through is the longest, most boring blowjob ever, but when you move to skip it, Dirk stops you.

"'S a nice dick too," he says and smirks a little, so you decide to just leave it.

Then he skips the pussy eating part and you start to figure, even in your half-dazed state, that something is off about whatever he's trying to accomplish.

"Dude, that was a nice cunt," you say and he just shrugs like that was completely casual of him to do. It's very suspicious, if not more.

"Not in the mood fer it," he says simply, then skips all the way to the fucking part, though you can't complain, because this porno is nice. So nice that you actually feel just a little roused by it, which is so weird because Dirk is literally right next to you and getting a boner with him next to you would be a problem. You don't even know if he's fine with this.

The video ends and Dirk's not reacting to it at all, and he closes the tabs with the other ones he picked out, then just staring at the default page. "Dunno what now."

"Dare ya t' go to the gay ones," you say with a grin, having decided to do a little experiment. No harm done, right?

"... Why's that a dare? Sounds like fun, honestly," he says and quickly clicks around, finding a decent video after a few minutes and opening it up. Your hypothesis might just be proven correct.

It starts off with two cute dudes kissing and touching a little, and that's when you notice Dirk's squinting at them. Could be the weed.

"Fuck man, I kiss better that that," he says, and it catches your attention faster than you can mumble out a 'wha-'.

He stays quiet for a bit, then decides to skip over the initial kissing part and to the blowjob, at which he pretty much grimaces, then the fucking part, which he also grimaces at. Tough crowd much?

"The dude doesn't even shave, what the fuck? At least trim that dick that ya shouldn't be wavin' around." He has a lot more comments this time around it seems, which makes you snort, but you kind of like the video, despite the fact that said dude doesn't shave at all.

You don't notice your cheeks heat up, neither do you notice Dirk's as he searches around for another video, which turns out to be tons better. Just like the straight one from before, but with two guys instead of one. Nice.

"I still kiss better than that," he brags, giving a little snort and you wonder, does he? Maybe that should be proven, though it's a pretty touchy thing to ask.

Which is easier to accomplish when you're high.

"Back that statement up, man," you say and he looks at you with an eyebrow so quirked, you think you broke his muscle or something. Though he quickly smirks again, shrugging.

"That'd be weird," he says, but you shrug back at him, smirking just as he is. Two can play at this and there's some very, very obvious and sudden tension in the air. You both feel it.

"So am I, but you ain't complainin'," hou tease back, shifting a little on the bed and he mirrors the move, ignoring the laptop completely at this point. It's happening, you are being smooth and no one can stop you.

Dirk grins, then looks down at both of your crotches, immediately noticing a small bulge in yours, and you see it in his too. "Smooth, hun. This ain't a relationship invitation, I hope ya know that."

Understandable. You nod and he then leans closer, pressing you down a little and you assume he wants some dominance, so you let him, but not until after you stick your tongue out through your teeth and lick at his upper lip lightly. It's appropriate to tease back, and he does as well, pressing his tongue to yours and then catching it in his lips before he finally kisses you, holding his lips there for a few moments.

Eventually, he pulls away, but you pull him back for another kiss, moving your lips against his and trying to push your tongue into his mouth. His teeth are a formidable wall though, and you figure he's not about to let you do that just yet. He pulls away after that again, smirking still.

"Kinda eager of ya, innit? I just demonstrated," he says and well, yeah, you haven't kissed anyone in like a year maybe, so yes, of course you're damn eager. And he is a nice kisser, you have to admit it.

"And ya got hard at it, what's your excuse?" You say while he's still just two inches from your face, and it actually makes him blush a bit, but you're just about in the same state, so you can't tell him that it's just him and that you're in better control of your body.

"My excuse is that you'd definitely be down fer some bro-on-bro stuff, am I wrong?" He says and gestures down to your crotch, and you're pretty sure he hit the nail on the head by saying that. "Cuz I sure wouldn't mind. Everyone gets frustrated."

Fuck, he's right.

"Heh, guess so," you say just as he starts to toy with the hem of your pants, tugging at the button a little to get it loose. "But I ain't gonna do anythin' more than handjobs, man." Those would be for the best, you think.

"A'ight, I'm down," he says and nods while your hand reaches for his pants too, also tugging at the button and managing to pull it out of the hole, which is an achievement with one hand, you need a medal for that, really. "Do I get more kisses fer that, though?"

"Sure, what the hell," you chuckle, then pull him down a bit, and you kiss again, just a little playfully, both of you smiling against each other's lips as you press lightly at his crotch, feeling quite a bulge underneath. Okay, now you can't wait to see it. It feels hard, warm against your palm, and his hips push against your hand just the littlest bit, and you do the same when he mirrors the motion, also straining against your pants and underwear.

He gives a soft hum against your lips as you massage him through his... boxer briefs? Yes, those are definitely white boxer briefs. You're more of a boxers guy yourself anyway. Anyways, you keep slowly working at whatever you can feel, taking your sweet time to actually feel it over, trying to estimate the size. And it feels big. But maybe those are just your stoned senses thinking.

Eventually, he pulls away from the kiss and shifts a little, his hand leaving your crotch and tugging his own jeans and underwear down to his mid-thighs, while your eyes just stay fixed on his cock when he exposes it, resting on his thigh, half-hard, but still pulsing and probably about to get even harder. And bigger. Your hand reaches for it, index tracing over the whole length, and you can feel it give a twitch, which makes you chuckle playfully.

You haven't even noticed that he's gotten your pants and underwear down. And that he also has a grip on your cock, lazily stroking you up and down and making you give a little appreciative sigh.

This is all a little strange to a tiny part of your brain, the one currently not slowed down by the weed, it all seems so sudden, not thought out. You can worry about that later, because he's still got a grip on you and he's still moving his hand, thumb tracing over the tip, which makes you exhale a little shakily.

"Fuck, man, how big is that?" You mumble out as you take him into your hand, noticing its weight and that it wasn't fully hard, even at this point, so you move your hand, feeling the foreskin move along and slide smoothly over the slowly hardening cock.

"'S not at its biggest yet," he simply retorts, which, you confess, has you wanting more and licking your lips as you languidly stroke the growing length and give it the occasional squeeze, waiting for it to grow more. And it sure as hell does, damn. You would've never thought he'd be a grower with that thing.

"Eleven," he says when his cock is hard and pulsing in your hand, the size making it actually hard to hold and caress, but it was sure as hell worth it. Did the dude just say eleven? As in, _eleven inches_? "You?"

Oh, shit, now that he mentions it, you... you really don't know. What was it last time you measured it? Shit, that was a long time ago, you can't remember, and you just shrug unknowingly, but are pleasantly surprised when Dirk moves to push his pants all the way down and then shifts onto you, like, _straddles you and **presses his dick to yours** , holy shit_. What the hell is he doing? "The fuck?"

"Shh, I'm just seein' how much smaller ya are," he hushes you and gently lines them up, base to base and yeah, he's quite the bit bigger than you, maybe like, two inches bigger. Though, what he makes up in length with, he lacks in girth, well, not lacks, that was a weird thing to say, that thing is still almost two inches thick, but looking proportionately, yes, it could be bigger. You can't complain though, you've got him basically jerking both of you off with one hand while he's still measuring, smirking down at you as you casually put your hands behind your head, like some sort of pompous prince of the pricks.

Eventually, after probably taking a much longer time than needed to measure you and using it as an excuse to grind your lengths together, he finally looks up at you with a smirk. "I'd give it about nine, if I'm honest. I like it," he says and you feel just a little proud, because hey, the guy likes what he sees, and you're cool with that.

"Yo, man, I like lookin' at that, you all up on me n' shit, but if ya don't mind, my dick's startin' t' ache." You snicker and reach down again, quickly taking his length into your hand and starting to move it again, pressing your thumb to the tip and he nods and gladly reciprocates, mirroring your movements on your member.

That's how it goes for a few minutes, just both of you stroking each other's cocks slowly and looking at each other with these grins on your faces, then you decide to maybe speed things up and move your hand faster and your hips push up into Dirk's hand, which he takes as an invitation to move faster as well, so, well, he does. His hand is so gentle though, and you lay your head down onto the pillow and grip it with your free hand, giving little pleased hums and pants as you look down at Dirk's work.

He's smirking at you all the while, with an almost sweet look in his eyes, but so are you, and it could be the weed, or it could just be your attempts at a mood, which is working just fine for both of you. Once he leans down again and kisses you, it's so much better though. You throw your arms over his neck and pull him down more, he grips the sheets at your sides and your hips grind together, making you groan into each other's mouth while this turns into a much more passionate thing, without the whole romantic aspect. Could you say it's passionate because you both just want to get off? Maybe.

It really doesn't take long after that. Dirk's grunting, you're groaning, you pull away and grip fistfuls of his perfectly styled hair, tugging at it and burying your face in his neck, almost instinctively trying to bite into his skin. Then he roughly shoves your face away.

"Don't ya fuckin' dare," he grunts, particularly seriously, to which you nod, not wanting to interrupt him more after he stops for just a moment to speak. You give a wanton whine and push your hips up again, wanting that little bit of friction that would push you over and let you finally release. "I don't want any marks," he adds, and then, just barely, it clicks in your head that _of course he doesn't want markings if this isn't a relationship, the hell are you thinking_?

The tone he says it in is a completely different thing though, low, commanding, you might even kind of like that. Once again, he moves against you, then straightens up and starts to jerk you both off, much faster than before, and it takes you only a few more pants and your breath catches in your throat as your hips twitch up into his hand and you're spilling onto your stomach in soft gushes, while he's still moving and pushing against you and comes right after you in spurts, on your stomach and on your chest. His load is much larger than yours, but you don't care about that at all, you're just in bliss from release.

Did he even make any noise? Dude was just... so silent.

"Good?" He asks as you're still panting and trying to catch your breath, but you nod anyway, your lips feel a little dry so you lick them and he leans down again to kiss you quickly. Of course, he's careful not to smear the slowly cooling cum on you.

"Yeah," you rasp out and swallow dryly, then he reaches over your head for a tissue and gently wipes you off, for what you're thankful, and you both lay down next to one another afterwards, feeling sleepy and exhausted, just from all of that. Dirk even takes the liberty of pulling a blanket over himself after turning away from you, but you're too dazed to even realise what he did, just pulling some of the blanket over yourself.

Your brain's already registered this as your own bed, and you're out in a matter of minutes, thanks to the effect weed has on your body when you're not doing anything. Both of you fall asleep like that, not even realizing it until you're softly snoring away through the entire night, completely forgetting about whatever happened.

Boy is it going to be a fun, slightly hungover morning.


	7. An Extra Dose of Porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan and Karkat do the undercover bed boogie because I'm a nice person and they might as well do something now or they never will. Just awkward, first time sex.

Your name is Eridan Ampora and your best friend just told your boyfriend, aka his roommate that he won't be home for another little while, and your boyfriend is now practically dragging you upstairs and to the dorm he's staying in with your friend. Also your brain isn't working as it should, and all that's left for you to do is to follow along quietly with wide eyes, no questions asked. There's a big chance that what you think might happen will happen, but you're not sure if you should be excited for it, or hold your bladder back from pissing your pants out of nervousness.

"Keep up, we don't have all day!" Karkat reminds you, his sharp, raspy voice waking you up from the train of questions going through your head and you step faster, following him through the hallways as he tugs you along. The guy is like a head an a half smaller than you, but he sure has an iron will that gives him serious strength when he's determined to get something. Right now, his goal is probably getting you into bed, preferably pantsless.

He's five foot three and wearing a slightly oversized, black button-up shirt that's not even tucked into his baggy jeans, because he barely seems to care about being proper, especially since the words that come out of his mouth are seventy percent curses. The red and black hoodie he previously had on is clutched in his hand, and you actually find that hoodie pretty cool. The inside is red only, which is awesome. Enough about that though, because he lets go of your hand just long enough to pull the keys out of the hoodie and unlock the dorm door, then, as expected, pulls you inside and leads you to his room.

So much happens in literally under three seconds that you might as well have forgotten how to breathe or function entirely.

The door swings open, you get shoved inside, the door is somewhat pushed closed and there's another pull on your shirt as you get tugged to the bed, on top of Karkat's much smaller body, and you're afraid you're going to break something of his. Not to mention that you're so red you'd put a lobster to shame.

"Okay, w-wait-!" You stop him quickly just as he's grabbing your scarf and pulling it off of your neck, grabbing his wrists and staring down at him with wide eyes as he gives you a little raised eyebrow glare. "Wh-what are you doin'?"

"Uh, happy four months? I'm not going to keep jerking my dick alone after every date we go on, and- fuck, you haven't even noticed, have you, popcorn brain?" God, his insults are the most precious thing. They stopped having an effect on you entirely, but- wait, did he say four months? You thought that was next week, oh shit.

"...Oh," you mumble dumbly like the casanova you are, sitting up on his waist and straddling him. There's really no other position to take, unless you were to move off of him, which he probably wouldn't appreciate, so you decide not to do that. "U-uhm. To-today?"

Karkat gives an exasperated groan and props himself up on his elbows, still glaring at you with a pout, but there's a trace of red on his cheeks, and you can't help but find it adorable, mixed with the round face he has, it's just so cute. "For fuck's fucking- Eridan, I swear to fucking shit, _yes_ , our four months is **today** , and I'm literally offering you my God damned ass for it! You need a silver platter for it now, or are you gonna miss that too, Mr. Dense? I've been literally fucking _grinding_ on you for two weeks and practically _molesting_ your dick every second I could and you better damn- mm-mmn-"

He doesn't finish his little rant, you just decide to cut him off by kissing him. Was that you or your weird impulse? Probably the latter, you'd be too nervous to do it if you had any rational thoughts left. His hands grab your shirt tightly as he gives a little whimper against your lips, his cheeks flaring with red when you pull away.

Fuck, he's adorable.

His big, olive green eyes are staring up at you, his mouth ajar, but no words are coming out of it. This seems like a good way to shut him up, just for future reference, but also to shut you up from his side, because the look in his eyes is so innocent and so needy at the same time it must be illegal.

"...So that's an okay, right-" he finally mumbles after pushing some of his messy hair away from his forehead, since it's tickling him in annoying ways. You barely give a nod before you're being pulled down again and a tongue is being shoved into your mouth pretty roughly. Shit, shit-

"Kar- retehhnr- retainer-!" You mumble against his lips and he pulls away for a few seconds to pull his retainer off of his upper teeth, just tossing the saliva coated thing onto the desk. Gamzee is not going to be happy about that. If he even notices anyway.

He quickly mumbles an apology before you're kissing him again, shifting down and lying more or less on top of him, his legs awkwardly spreading and wrapping around your waist and oh, oh wow, you're crotch to crotch, shit, he's suddenly moaning and you just. Bite down.

"Fuck- fuck-! Leggo 'f my lip-!" Karkat yells and you pull away embarrassedly, God that was the absolute opposite of smooth. "The fuck was that?!"

This is going to be the most awkward thing you've done in your life. And the time you and your brother accidentally brushed bare asses doesn't come close, that time you just wanted to scrub your skin off, now you want to disappear.

"I'm sorry, I-I got excited, I'm sorry-!" You whimper, hiding your face in his shoulder. Yeah, most awkward thing ever.

He sighs and wraps his arms around your neck, gently pulling you up and giving your lips a few little smooches, which, you have to admit, do calm you down. Somehow, it's endearing, and you gladly smooch him back. "Just kiss me like you mean it, nerd."

That does move you into action, and you press your lips back to his, a little more carefully this time around and yes, yes this is much nicer. Taking it slow seems to be a good idea, and he pulls his legs away from your waist to not rush you too much, his lips fit against yours so nicely it's just so great, it's amazing, oh your God, you're going to have _**sex**_. That hits you like a train, and you give a needy whine against his lips, your hands gripping onto the pillow beneath his head as your mouths part almost in unison, tongues touching a little shyly, a little awkwardly, but he lets you dominate the kiss after a few pokes and prods. 

Hands tangle in your hair and tug, making you pull away and you're left wondering why, but your question is quickly answered as he shoves you into his neck. Gesture registered, and you kiss at the skin there, finding the softer spots that make him mewl and squirm under you, and he sounds even better than a porno, you just want to listen to that even more, yes, yes, fuck _yes_ -

There's a loud bang on the door, which swings open, you shriek in sudden panic and accidentally bite Karkat's neck before pulling away and he's cursing like a sailor. "Fuck- fucking-! Ow, you asshole, I'll rip your fucking nipples off if you do that again douchebag-!" While that's happening, you've turned around, seeing Gamzee in the doorway and your heart might as well have stopped because _this is so embarrassing_! He shouldn't have been back for a while, Karkat said it himself!

One **quick exchange** of words with Gamzee and a yell from Karkat, plus a pillow hitting your best friend in the face later, and he's gone, also embarrassing you further and making you bury your face in your hands. The most. Embarrassing thing. Ever.

You honestly feel like you're going to cry. And that's even more embarrassing.

"...Okay, that one wasn't your fault," Karkat says after a bit of a pause, leaning up and hugging you a little grumpily. Anyone would be grumpy with a bruised lip and a soft spot on his neck freshly bitten. You give a tiny little whimper against his shoulder, hiding your face there. "Eridan- Eridan, damnit, get your shit together."

Breathe.

Inhale, exhale.

"I'm sorry, Kar," you mumble, frowning as you look at him and he rolls his eyes and smooches your lips, exaggerating and puckering his lips way too much for a normal kiss. It's endearing, again.

"Dude, chill. You think I'm not nervous? I had to gather the courage to drag you to bed with me, I'm fucking screaming on the inside," he says, and you chuckle softly, blinking away the dampness in your eyes. Were you really about to cry before? Eridan Ampora, the most awkward lover.

"You're al-always screamin' on the inside," you say and he flicks you in the shoulder, calling you something along the lines of "asshole" and "nerd". It's so adorable.

"Hey," he says and you still, silence yourself and stare down at him as he stares back up at you, holding onto your shoulders. If this guy won't be the death of you, you don't know what will be. "I love you, asshole."

You stay silent for a good half a minute.

"...I lov-love you too," you mumble and both of you blush again, the mood immediately shifting into something completely different. Everything you see is him, everything he sees is you, and you don't care how cheesy it sounds, but you can only think about how much you love him, and he's probably thinking the same thing anyway. His lips meet yours again and somehow, it gets even sweeter by the second.

Then he moves his hips up a little and you can feel him smirk against your lips, because the little devil is now in motion and he knows _exactly_ what he's doing when he moves his hips again. You're still crotch to crotch with him, and he's pushing right into it, making you give a soft gasp and making him grin.

"K-Kar-" You gasp out and he just reaches down and tugs at your pants, but you're a little unsure about getting to it so fast. "W-wait- ah-"

"Sorry," he apologizes, pulling his hands away and shyly unbuttoning his shirt as he smiles up at you innocently. Much too innocently. This guy is a gremlin, a sex demon, a damn incubus.

You offer a shy smile back, then pull his shirt off of his shoulders, looking over his chest. Shirtless Karkat isn't something you haven't seen before. He's soft all over, plump and, well, you would definitely call him chubby, as much as he doesn't like it, but you absolutely love it. Sure he doesn't have defined muscles, but he has a tummy that you could smush your hands and face into and thighs that you could use as pillows and you love every bit of him.

"I told you not to stare like a million times!" He grumbles and swats at your chest bashfully, but it makes you giggle and squeeze his soft pecs, not exactly what people would call man boobies, but just enough for it to feel soft under your palms.

"And I told you I absolutely lov-love it. Stop beatin' yourself up for it." You chuckle and he even squeaks when you squeeze his chest, but you can see him smiling and hiding his face by looking away. His hands then reach up and tug at your shirt, so you remove it because you do have mercy and you don't want to keep him waiting.

Your body is a little lankier, but not like Gamzee's, man that guy is like a giraffe, your shoulders are just the littlest bit broader from the swimming you used to do, but you gave that up after about three years. Still, your muscles are barely defined, your stomach has a tiny lining of pudge, that has to be all the chips and junk food and oh, okay, Karkat's hands are all up in it. That makes you both feel better.

"If you can do that, so can I," he mumbles and shoves his face into your chest, which is a little firmer, sure, but he feels you up in a way that makes you squirm because _this fucker knows you're ticklish_.

"Kar, no- nope- no-" You giggle and try to push him away, then he does stop and slowly kisses up your collarbones. Is he being playful? He's definitely being playful. Wait, why- wait... he's trying to ease you into it, relax you. Oh, dear **God** you love him.

"Eridan, can we get to it?" He asks, kissing up your neck and making you shiver as his hands slide up your back, but the question spurs you, makes your mind click finally, and your hips grind down onto him, and he grips onto you tighter, so you press down harder.

There's a bulge in both of your pants, you can feel his and he can feel yours. No more chickening out, no, no, time to take a hold on the reins and get Karkat all riled up and squirming under you, moaning your name, rocking along with you... There's an image that could make your dick hurt. 

All of a sudden, with that new-found confidence, you shove him down onto the pillowless mattress, then buck your hips down roughly and he downright mewls again, his pants having a nice little tent in them which you cannot wait to see. You brace your hands on either side of his head, his cheeks red as he stares up at you with half-lidded eyes, while your expression is more or less the same as you keep your hips moving back and forth, the fabric of your underwear feeling so great on your clothed cock, but it starts to hurt, and you stop before you start to chafe or something painful like that.

He whimpers and extends his arms to pull you down into a slightly sloppy kiss, bucking his own hips up and then wrapping his legs around your waist again. "W-wait, Karkat-" You mumble, then reach down and fumble with your button and zipper to relieve some of the painful tension in your pants, and he pleads you to do the same for him, so you do, very gladly.

Then he decides to shimmy out of his pants completely so he's left in his underwear (you know he wore his pretty red boxers just for you today), and, well, who would you be if you didn't wear your seahorse briefs and embarrass yourself when he pulls yours down as well. And snorts. "I love those." 

... That makes it better.

You both smile again, your hips pressing down gently, teasingly, making Karkat whimper and then the goddamn window opens again and you think you're going to flip your shit.

Karkat shrieks this time, yells at Gamzee who's casually pulling some stupid thing out of the drawer of his desk and when you yell his name, he nearly busts his ass crawling over the window again. You'll have to talk with him about this stuff, it's not going to work if he barges in next time, and next time, and next time...

"That's it-" Karkat huffs and pulls his underwear down, completely losing his patience and shoves you onto the bed roughly and nearly rips your underwear off, exposing you and okay, there's his hand on your dick, that is definitely his hand on your dick. "You, on your back, I'm not giving that fucker the satisfaction of walking in on us without seeing shit he doesn't want to see."

You would've said that Gamzee wouldn't mind watching you literally fuck like animals right in front of him, but you decide to keep that to yourself. Also there is still a hand on your dick and it feels good, Karkat knows exactly how to make you speechless. Or it's a lucky guess on his side.

There's a weight on your thighs, and Karkat's straddling them, playing with both your length and his own. Is- is he bigger than you? Holy shit he's slightly bigger than you and you feel so embarrassed because he's chuckling and oh no, oh no, he's totally mocking you for it-

"Perfect for my ass if you ask me."

_**Oh.** _

"Oh."

"Dude, your dick looks so nice," he says, still playing with it and then lines it up with his own, comparing lengths. It's bigger than yours by just half an inch and you're just at seven, this is so embarrassing- "What?"

"You're bigger," ou mumble, frowning slightly at him and he coos softly, then grinds his hips onto your cock lightly, pointing at the desk. What?

"Get the lube and condom because I'm not even gonna discuss that," he says, almost sternly, and you're... you're actually happy. What a quick and efficient way of telling you that he really doesn't care about your size and- wow, you love him. "Top drawer-" You scramble for the lube, practically tossing it into his hands.

He pops it open and squeezes some on his fingers, then reaches down between his legs and immediately pushes two fingers into himself while you watch him moan and whine on you as he stretches his ass just for _you_. It's honestly the hottest thing you've ever been blessed to witness, even compared to all the porn you've watched, yes, even the hella kinky ones. Seeing your boyfriend, someone you're actually involved it, get off especially for you, it's already euphoric enough without the thought of him actually continuing by riding you. He's going to do that, right?

"E-Eri-" He whimpers through grit teeth and that's your name, that is your God damned name coming out of your boyfriend's mouth and it sounds so hot your dick twitches. Thankfully, he doesn't notice. "You- you'll fuck me nice and hard won't you?"

You can only nod at that, your hands sliding up his plump thighs and to his hips (fuck, those are some good love handles) while his own hand is moving faster, fingers curled inside him and he immediately finds the precious little spot that makes him groan like a bitch in heat. That was derogatory and you're sorry for thinking that. Like a pornstar? Yes.

A minute later the condom is on you and he's slathering your cock with lube, and you can't help but hiss a little at how cold it is, even through the rubber, though his warm hand makes it better pretty quickly and a second later he's pressing himself down onto it. There's a sudden tightness, his inner muscles squeezing your dick, but the best part is the warmth, the overwhelming warmth, no, what are you saying, it's hot and holy shit he's still taking you inside, managing to get you in all the way to the base. Jesus Christ almighty this might make you a religious man. Or not, that was a joke on your behalf.

"K-Karkat-" You mumble as he sits there for a good few seconds, adjusting to the slightly larger intrusion, even if he's probably already stretched himself today. It's a mistake to underestimate him in any aspect.

"Mmhm." He huffs and then lifts his hips up, which you're holding quite tightly, maybe even enough to bruise them, then brings them back down and sends shivers up yours and his own spine. You can tell he's aiming for his prostate.

When he hits it, it's like hearing pure heaven.

Your name and various sweet nonsense like 'you feel so good in there' is what he cries out and it's high-pitched, drawn out and so beautiful it makes you think you'll cum right then and there. Thankfully, you don't, but you don't know if you'll last a long time. "M-mov-move, please." The stutter is unstoppable in this situation, but it's not bothering either of you.

His hips lift and fall again, again and again until he catches a rhythm, grinding, bouncing and, most importantly, moaning your name out in pure bliss, eyes closed, one hand on his own dick and stroking himself and the other one holding yours. It's sweet, actually.

Tight, hot and perfect is what he is, moving like that on you, and you're watching with needy, lustful eyes, the both of you moaning each other's name in unison. _"Fuck- nnrrgh-! I know you can fuck me harder damnit, c'mon!"_ You love hearing that. Your hips move up every time he pushes himself down, making that skin-on-skin slapping noise every time he hits your thighs. _"God yes, nice and deep in my ass, **yes**."_ You love hearing that too. Another thing you most definitely love is his ass. His big, soft, plump and hella jiggly ass that you can feel with every hit of his hips against yours. _"I wanna cum so bad, just- **please-!** "_ The fact that he's still jerking himself frantically and mumbling the dirtiest things you've ever heard is just adding to the whole sight and making your dick practically ache with wanton release.

"E-eri-da-an-!" He gasps out, the poor guy's thighs probably killing him at this point, and that's your cue to take matters into your own hands and pull him down against himself, lying his soft body onto yours and rolling you both over just a little clumsily. Then his legs are around your hips, his mouth is on yours and his hands are clawing at your back and leaving bright red marks because you're pounding into him erratically and with little to no rhythm at all while you nearly growl into his mouth and he cusses into yours.

Everything is just Karkat and warmth and tightness on your dick for a few seconds as you empty yourself completely inside him (or the condom, but it's still inside him, it's a nice thought to you), while he coats both of your stomachs with his own warm spurts of cum and everything is so perfect you think you died and went to heaven. If this is what heaven is like, Karkat can be your God. Fuck how cheesy that sounds, you're enjoying yourself.

But, as everything, even that comes to an end, and you stop being a twitchy, tense mess on top of him and slowly open your eyes to find a smiling, shivering Karkat underneath you. He looks so pretty like this, you think, then gently pull out, making him hiss and you quickly get the condom off, tie it in a knot, even wrap it in a tissue and then throw it away.

"Hey, gimme some of those..." He rasps out tiredly, holding one hand out weakly for the tissues. The gesture makes you giggle, so you clean the both of you up yourself and throw the wad of cum and lube covered tissues away.

He then sits up and you stare at each other for a while before you start to chuckle and laugh happily, snuggling afterwards. It's so real, unreal and beautiful at the same time.

"I love you," he says and pecks you on the lips, then hands you your phone, which he fetches from your discarded pants. "Now tell Gamzee the room's gonna be clear to come into in thirty minutes because you and I need a shower."

You mumble an 'I love (lov-love) you too' and proceed with that, then toss the phone onto the desk. That shower sounds so nice, it's like you're floating when Karkat drags you to it. Compliments are, of course, exchanged, mostly about how good you were, how amazing he was, all that sweet stuff.

After dressing back into your clothes, saying the sweetest goodnight to Karkat and even tucking his sleepy self into bed, you make sure to make a mental note of not letting this be just a monthly occurance. You just can't wait to do it again.

Or brag about it to Gamzee in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always use protection, homos ;^*
> 
> Leave a comment also I kinda wanna know what ya think so far.


	8. The Friendly Entanglement Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee gets invited to an evening of drinking, and for some reason, he can't seem to grasp why he's so worked up about it. Maybe because Bro is a whole two years older than him, which is a lot in highschool terms.
> 
> It's awkward, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinking age is 18 here and I'm not about to change these strange European mannerisms. Also this is a shit chapter.
> 
> But hey, the next chapters are probably always going to contain porn, so enjoy!

"Good morning, sleepyheads."

You're awoken abruptly, quickly, and it's disorienting as absolute godawful fuck. The curtain isn't hiding the rays of sunlight anymore, which might just as well be out to kill you because it's November, and the sun should be turned down to its minimum and minding its own business. There is, however, some warmth beside you, which you're clinging onto, and it seems it's also clinging back onto you, so there's nothing you can say about that.

Until it moves and you finally open your eyes to find yourself facing an equally sleepy Dirk Strider, with his hair sticking each and every way in tufts. Yours isn't much better, being the matted mop it always is in the morning. It takes the both of you almost a full minute to stretch and realise that that before was neither of your voices, after which you notice Horuss unpacking his bag on his desk with a smug grin.

Oh, shit.

Oh, holy shit, what have you done.

There's a string of curses soon coming from both of your mouths as you sit up, bumping arms, shoulders, hands and Horuss just snickers at you both, sitting on his bed and watching the comedy act unfold. Seems like there's more to him than just being posh and polite.

"Looks to me you two had fun," he notes as he sees that you're both bare in your upper half, figuring your lower half was equally in lack of clothing. "No lube anywhere? Gosh."

Wait- what?

Oh dear _**God**_ you did not.

Your eyes widen slightly, and so do Dirk's, and you look at each other with a stricken expression, unsure if you should be asking the question you really want to ask.

_Do you feel sore in any way?_

"Are ya-" He starts and you quickly shake your head as if on cue, after which he seems to breathe easier, hunching over in relief and then looking at Horuss with a bit of a glare. "Don't scare me like that."

It's at least something good about this turn of events, it could've gone worse, if you're honest. You're absolutely sure it could've gone worse, yeah.

"Well then, you two, I'll let you get your heads straight and get yourselves dressed," Horuss exclaims, still having that smug smile on his face while slowly getting up again. "You've already missed a day of school, by the way, but you're welcome to join me for coffee."

"Just git." Dirk grumbles and waves his hand at him dismissively and running the other through his own disheveled hair. Fuck man, that accent was so thick, was it a morning thing?

Horuss gets up in the meantime and grabs his wallet, stepping out the door while you're still slowly comprehending that he's asked you to come for coffee. He closes the door behind himself and tells you he'll be waiting in the hallway for you two, after which Dirk slowly turns his head to you. His eyes are sleepy and a little confused looking, but he's not angry; right?

"That was my fault," he says suddenly, and you just chuckle and shake your head, nudging him lightly. How is it his fault? Nah.

"I think ya ought'a blame both," you say and he cracks a smile, then pulls the sheet down and, well, you're still naked, and you're exposed too. "Bro, I am cold now, thank you."

"Yer welcome." He snickers, then slowly scoots himself to the edge of the bed and stands up, looking around the floor and eventually picking your underwear up to toss it at you, not without a comment, of course. "Nasty."

"Hey, hey, you wanted 'em off," you tease back and put the article on while he's dressing himself and you follow suit, pulling your underwear back up and finally looking actually presentable. Actually, no, your hair is still a complete god damn mess, you'll have to fix that later. "... What are we gonna say?"

He stops as he's putting his jeans on, turning his head to you and you can see in his eyes that it's definitely too early to be asking such a question, though he feels obligated to answer since, well, it's the matter at hand. "No homo."

That. That works too.

"No homo," you repeat and he smiles again, then lazily pulls a shirt on. Do you need a shower? Nah, you should be good for at least a few more hours.

You do kind of want another few smooches, mostly because he _is_ a good kisser, and kisses are a nice thing. Should you ask? Could you even ask? 

"What'cha got on yer mind?" He then asks and you snap back into reality abruptly, and you're sure you've been idly staring at his face. You just make a really dumb face and give him a shrug, after which he gives an amused chuckle.

Finally though, after a whole lot of consideration if you're both clean enough to go into public, you decide to brush your teeth because oh boy, morning breath, not a good thing to have with people around you. With small chit-chat accompanying your walk, you're there in a matter of a minute, finding Horuss sitting by the counter and getting your asses sat beside him. Bastard didn't even wait. Dirk yawns before speaking.

"Mornin' now," he grumbles and Horuss simply chuckles, nudging him in the side and you can definitely tell he's going to be teasing him for the upcoming month, not to mention that your roommate is going to be pissy about you barging in twice on his time with Eridan for at least the same amount of time. Embarrassing? Yes. Worth it? Totally. You guess.

"Mornin'," you also greet, then ask the waitress for a glass of water while Dirk goes straight for the coffee, even asking to make it extra strong, and you can't help but laugh internally since he was drinking cocoa just the day before. What an interesting guy.

While the coffee brews, Horuss looks you both up and down, trying to spot anything that's out of place on either of you, be it a part of your expression, or the look in your eyes. Sure as hell won't be getting anything from Dirk's sleepy ones besides a glare, that's for sure. You can see the poor guy just needs his caffeine.

Your water is delivered shortly, as is Dirk's coffee, and he slowly sips at it just as you sip on your water in almost perfect sync. It's actually pretty satisfying, even if Horuss is still analyzing you from head to toe. Not exactly discreet at these things, is he?

"So," Dirk pipes up, "how was yer night?"

Horuss actually seems to get flustered after the question. Oh-ho, seems like you have a hypocrite on your hands. Though, you really can't blame him, everyone's got their private things, be it their love life, or their secret stash of sweets in the closet.

"Fine," the other simply answers, and you can see Dirk nod faintly at him with a smug smirk that stretches over his lips. How the hell does he pull it off so smoothly? The mystery of life.

"Ya fuckin' jerk," Dirk calls him out, obviously as a friendly joke, and nudges him in the side. "What damn constellation were ya watchin'? The one with the two round bits an' a thing in the middle?" That's the metaphor he's going for? Then again, you don't have the capacity to come up with anything better anyway, so it'd just have to do.

"'Twas at the height of the night, around midnight-" Horuss begins, but Dirk quickly cuts the bastard off with a "save that shit fer you an' yer nasty asses". You're guessing it's an inside joke you don't get, and that's fine, you barely met the two dudes.

Is his accent still so thick? You reckon it is, because you're hearing it. With your sleepy ears. How are your ears even sleepy? Are they technically inanimate objects? You'll dwell on that some other time, possibly when you'll be under the influence.

"Yo, Gam," he then calls out, and you lift your head and turn to him, having been preoccupied with your glass of water and thoughts about sleepy, inanimate objects.

"What's the plan, man?" Oh. Huh, you didn't think of that, what can you do for the rest of the day? You'd suggest watching movies, but that's not really that original of an idea. What to do, what to do...

"I'unno." Ah, yes, the intelligent thing to say. Absolutely amazing.

He snorts, because well, you're spacing out, and it's funny when you get out of your zone so suddenly. Once he's gotten over his laugh, he sighs, takes a sip of his coffee and sets the cup down again, licking off the little excess bit that got on his lips. Why you're noticing that, you don't know.

"Ya gotta study?" He asks and the reality of that hits you a little bit. Yes, you do have to study, but you guess it can be your day off, seeing as you've slept through half of it already. Too much is going to do you worse than not enough. Though, you also don't want that to happen, so a nice middle ground sounds like a good compromise.

"Nawh, I can take a day off. You got anythin' to be doin'?" You ask, but he just shakes his head and smirks in your general direction, probably because he can't be bothered to actually turn his head. How does he do it?

"Nope," he simply mumbles, and you're left thinking about your options. What the hell can two dudes even do? Okay, you've got plenty of ideas, but they're definitely not for the general public, not to mention that you're too shy to ask about them, hah.

"... Is there anythin' ya _want_ t' do?" He asks after a moment of pause and oh, right, suggestions. That would be a thing. Quick, think of something that maybe doesn't include having to get high or drunk or pantsless.

Your mind draws a blank.

So you shrug.

He snorts in reply and just shakes his head again, mumbling something akin to: "What am I gonna do with ya." Well, he's not your dad. If he was, you'd be... well, he's not your dad, whatever.

It takes him a little while to think of something to say, and in that time, he's managed to finish the coffee, licking the last bits of creamy foam off his lip before he snaps his fingers and grins at you.

"Ya wanna go get smashed?"

Oh, yeah. You've got the time to do these things now. Sure, you're past legal age, hell, you're nineteen, but this dude is- how old is this dude? Third year, right? So... what, like twenty? Twenty-one? You have to admit, you'd rather go for some sweet old Mary-Jane rather than alcohol, but you guess it might not be too bad if you give your lungs a break and wake up your liver.

"Suggestions?" You inquire with a raised brow, curious to hear where he wanted to do the said smashing. The first guess is obviously a bar. But, possibly, it could be a club. You do not want to get drunk here, in your local café, it would embarrass you, Dirk, and the waitresses.

"Ya ever been t' The Circus?" He asks after a moment of consideration, and your expression changes to that of slight confusion, mixed with a bit of nervousness. And you never get nervous.

The Circus was a club with a very, very accurate name. People going to the bathroom only to come back out with white powder under their noses, and the women that stay behind closed stall doors for all evening, earning quick money for their favours. The waiters were, at the same time, security, and almost all of them were burly guys, or intimidating looking chicks that could break your ass faster than even all those guys. The parties hosted a few well-known DJs, a few less-known ones, but in the end, it al came down to who drank the most, and who passed out last.

Or so you've heard.

A shake of the head has Dirk smirking proudly, because he now knows you're fresh meat for the clubs. If you had any idea about what he's like outside, in the nightlife, you'd be able to tell if this is a good idea, or a bad idea, but you have a feeling he'll drag you along anyway. Are you going to mind? Probably not.

"I'll try takin' it easy," he says, then waves the waitress over so he can pay for the coffee, and you're about to pay for your drink too, but, well, water is still free, thankfully.

"Meet me outside at 'bout ten, sound good?" He asks just as you're getting up and you give him a nod, he gives you a nod back and then looks over at Horuss, who had apparently decided to remain sitting on his stool. "You goin'?"

"I'm meeting someone," he simply answers with that little smile that you've learned to recognise in the short time that you've known him. It's very, very polite, but also hides that little bit of teasing nature in him, and you can easily read it right off of him. Dirk can too, and he gives him a nod before nudging you to follow.

"I still gotta shower," you comment as you're walking out the door, and he sarcastically raises an eyebrow at you, scoffing. "What, man?"

"Ya think I don't gotta?" He asks rhetorically, and you just shrug at him with a little smile. God, you still can't believe you're going out drinking with a third year. And he's not even from your school, which is amazing, honestly, you want a medal for that.

Like him, you disperse to your room, hoping to god that you won't find Eridan and Karkat still inside it, so you only peek in the littlest bit, before you let out the breath you were holding when you see the beds are empty. They'll probably apologise when you next see them, and so will you, but that's not right now, thankfully. Karkat's yelling should be taken in little doses, not all at once. There's no note or anything on the desks, only a disheveled bed and your semi-disheveled one, which is just how you left it. You honestly can't be bothered to make it every morning, it'll just get fucked up again, so why bother? Karkat didn't make his either, so it already ruins the whole zen of the room anyway. At least they opened the window.

Once you take in the general look of the room, you sit yourself down on the bed, giving a long sigh. There's still a few hours left until you have to pull your ass up again to head out, you think as you check your phone for the time, trying to do the math of how long you were sleeping and dilly-dallying. That's a weird word, you're never using it again, even in your head.

The shower calls to you though, and you get up again, finding yourself some fresh clothes and a towel, then go on ahead to clean yourself up, which, you must admit, feels absolutely amazing to your body, because dear God you've been needing this, and bad. Clean and dry, you return to your room to continue being bored, in short to dilly-dally. No, that still sounds absolutely retarded, never saying it again.

Hours pass with you sitting behind your desk on your laptop, and, somewhere around the hour of nine, you get hit up by Eridan Ampora himself. Somehow, you were expecting him to talk to you earlier.

Oh, wait, yeah, that message was sent an hour ago. Shit.

Message recieved at 20:16

ERIDAN: hey

Message recieved at 21:04

ERIDAN: im guessin youre busy  
GAMZEE: i'm here, i'm here.  
ERIDAN: oh  
ERIDAN: hello again  
GAMZEE: heya, bro. :)  
ERIDAN: are you uh  
ERIDAN: angry about  
GAMZEE: nawh, why would i be?  
ERIDAN: well we kinda hogged the room  
GAMZEE: hahah, seriously, it's chill.  
GAMZEE: and i interrupted like two times, so...  
GAMZEE: you got the right to be angry at me.  
ERIDAN: hell no i cant do that  
ERIDAN: but okay i mean if youre not thats fine too  
GAMZEE: hey man, relax, i ain't gonna hunt you down or something for it.  
ERIDAN: right yeah i know  
GAMZEE: soooo? ;)  
ERIDAN: what  
GAMZEE: how was it?  
ERIDAN: oh that  
ERIDAN: erm  
ERIDAN: well  
ERIDAN: god it was really awkward but  
ERIDAN: it was nice  
GAMZEE: aww, that shit's sweet.  
ERIDAN: eheh thanks  
GAMZEE: hoping you get more. ;))  
ERIDAN: up yours man  
GAMZEE: you know it ;^P  
ERIDAN: wait  
ERIDAN: where did you sleep  
ERIDAN: we fell asleep in the room and you never showed  
GAMZEE: oh that.  
GAMZEE: i know people.  
ERIDAN: ex  
ERIDAN: excuse me  
GAMZEE: i know people, what?  
ERIDAN: gam you never hide the truth holy shit  
GAMZEE: i got stoned and had a chill lay-in with the neighbour downstairs, kay?  
ERIDAN: A LAY-IN  
ERIDAN: GAM  
GAMZEE: what?  
ERIDAN: YOU NEVER USE THAT WORD ARE YOU OKAY  
GAMZEE: yo dude, chill, yeah, i'm fine.  
ERIDAN: ... for some reason i dont believe you  
GAMZEE: i'll report later, man, i'm going out drinking hahaha. :)  
ERIDAN: ohhh i see  
ERIDAN: sorry for bein mean  
GAMZEE: it's already forgotten, bro.  
ERIDAN: aight see you later or tomorrow, yeah?  
GAMZEE: fo shure.

Gamzee Makara is  away .

Did. Did you lie to your best bud? Hell no, you'd never do that, right? Well, okay, occasionally, but those aren't the lies that would hurt him, like the time he tried to come into your room and you had to tell him to not because, you know, you had other "occupations". That one was for his own good and innocent eyes.

Just as you close the program, the door opens, and you look up to see if it's Dirk looking for you early - wait, he said ten, right? Why would he be here early? Your thoughts are squished when your little, grumpy roommate enters, stopping as soon as he sees you, then slowly, almost carefully closes the door behind himself.

"Uh. Hey." Is his only choice of words, and you smile at him, turning sideways on your chair and resting one arm on the seat as he goes ahead, takes his two hoodies off and sits on the bed, fumbling with his hands and refusing to make eye contact.

"What'd I do?" You ask as a joke and then shift onto your bed, grinning at that point. God, the guy was so easily flustered, you wonder how he's managed to get a circle of people he knows. Including you.

"Nothing, it's fine," he says quickly, looking up at you a little bit, just from under his eyebrows. "... Are you mad?"

"Wha- nawh, you guys was just havin' fun, I can't be mad at that." You chuckle, leaning back against the wall and then nudging his foot with his own.

"No, I mean- for stealing the room," he says, and this may as well be the first time Karkat Vantas himself feels bad about something he did, _and_ he's apologizing. This might as well be your lucky day. You only smile and shake your head, giving his foot a light kick.

"I already told Eridan that it's fine, man," you say with a little laugh then, grinning in your usual, goofy way. Though, well, hogging the room was a little rude of them, but you can't blame them, right? They thought you were going to be out, so that's kind of your fault. Can't say you weren't to blame at least a little bit.

He gives a little smile and nods slightly, sighing before flopping down onto the bed. "Thanks, Gamz. I swear we'll tell you beforehand next time," he says, and you kick him again, because seriously, no need to have them apologise so much.

"'S fine, bro. An' if I wake ya later, 'm sorry." You chuckle and he, as is tradition when he's tired, flips you off. What a generous, expressive guy.

"It's fine." He huffs, then shifts to lay on his side, smiling a little bit. You can tell that the guy is pretty happy. And you're happy for him too, because hey, he deserved more than just being a grump all the time. "Who're you going with though?"

Riiight... that caught you a little off-guard. Does he know the guy? Probably not, maybe the logical thing to do is tell him that. The most Eridan can tell him is that he's going with his neighbour. "Ya dunno the guy."

"Oh, 'kay," he says, then tiredly crawls up to his pillow, hugging it and giving another happy-sounding sigh. Ah, young love, how cute it is. "Hey, Gamzee?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I Eridan's first, uh. Boyfriend?" He asks, peeking up at you from behind the pillow, voice slightly muffled by the fabric and stuffing.

"Why ya worryin' yerself with that, man?" You chuckle, smiling at him and then pulling yourself up to sit down on his bed. Maybe it would be best to not let him know you were actually in that spot. Jealousy is not a nice thing, and if he wants to know, he can ask Eridan himself.

He shrugs, contemplating the reason behind the question, as far as you can see. "I'm just curious. Am I the first guy he's dated?"

"Yeah," you say with a nod, reaching over to give him a playful push. "Dunno what he did a lotta summers though, ya might wanna ask him yerself." Besides, the thing between you and him, it didn't last and it was just kind of... an experiment. Yeah.

"Alright, alright. Thanks." He nods and then pushes you back in retaliation. "Weren't you going, douchewad?"

"Nah, I'd still be early." You grin and poke him in the side, because hey, he's now challenging you. And you wouldn't just back down from a challenge. "Don't do that or so help me I'll tickle a motherfucker."

"Fine, fine, you win," he grumbles, though with a smile, raising his hands up in defense and pushing you with his foot, which you're tempted to grab and tickle, but he's already given up, it'd be rude to attack after he'd capitulated. That's such a stupid word too, never using it again.

A sigh escapes you and you scooch to the edge of the bed, slowly standing up and stretching out, then realising you still need to put on some more socially acceptable clothes. Sure, sweatpants and an old T-shirt are comfortable, but really, no one's going to want you even close to them if you don't have jeans. At the least. And Karkat pokes you in the lower back, just where your shirt rides up to expose some skin. You slap his hand for that.

"You were tempting me," he says with a grin, and you swear he looks like a little gremlin when he does that, all he needs are some big ears and green skin. Truly terrifying.

"Psh." You snort at him, then walk over to your little wardrobe, which, honestly, looks more like a slightly larger locker, and take out a clean pair of jeans and an actual button-up shirt, black for convenience of course. Rare formal occasions are the only times you can be seen like this, and just to complete the aesthetic, you find a dark purple bowtie, which, you have to admit, makes you look like a damn tool, so you take it off and shove it back in your locker-drobe while Karkat laughs at you. Fine, you'll just go like this.

Once you're all primed and proper, you find your keys, phone, wallet and cigarettes since those are the four things you definitely need on your outing, then find your coat, because it's starting to get too cold to wear hoodies all the time. That was a gift from your brother too, and you appreciate it a lot, not to mention it's absolutely wicked. Woolen, reaching to almost your ankles and, of course, black. The buttons on it are silver, and it'd be pretty simplistic if you were to look at it on a smaller person, but it makes you look absolutely badass, with the broad shoulders and how cool it is when you walk, all swooshing behind you.

Speaking of walk, you need better shoes than just your high-tops, so the choice is obvious. Black converses, high ones. Perfect. What, you? Have fancy dress shoes? Hell no.

"You fucking tool," Karkat comments, having been watching this whole time and snickering at you. "Hey, just a question, when are you getting home?"

You're not sure, if you're honest, and you shrug, poking and pulling your hair into various places where you want it to be. "Dunno. Ya plannin' on anythin'?" It's pretty obvious he wants to invite Eridan over.

"Well, duh, why do you think I'm asking?" He says, sitting up a little more as you're adjusting the collar of your coat over your shirt. "Or are you gonna spend the night at that other dude's place? What's up with you and him, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, last night we smoked some and just passed out since we were so tired," you simply say, then check your pockets again, remembering that cigarettes cannot be lit without fire, so you add a fifth item to your inventory, a lighter. Karkat keeps staring at you suspiciously. Shit.

"Then we'll try to finish up and you just come in whenever. After sending a text. To both of us," he insists, and you can see he's excited, bouncing his leg on the floor and already sending a text to Eridan; most likely.

You give a nod in his direction, then pull your phone out of your pocket and check the time, then waving to him. "A'ight man, I gotta get goin' now. You have fun."

"Yeah, bye Gamzee."

With that, you're out the door and heading downstairs to meet your friend.


	9. The Evening Intoxication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither of you make a single peep for almost an entire minute, until he empties his bottle and crouches down to place it on the floor. The funny thing is, he stays there, on his knees and right in front of you, which you find oddly strange of him.
> 
> What's he shooting at?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School's had me working my ass off, but I had to graduate and all, and yes I know it's been like two years and more since this started, but I've been having trouble writing since said writing has developed a lot over the span of this one fic.
> 
> Know that I don't like this chapter a lot.

The smoke of your cigarette dissipates into the dark night sky, you standing under the streetlight right in front of the student home, waiting for your compadre to show up. That's also a pretty stupid word, compadre. That aside, you finish off your minty cigarette and put it out on a nearby trash can, because you're not going to litter around the place where you live. You contemplate if you should go for a second one, but the front door opens and he steps through, Dirk Strider himself. And damn, if he isn't fancy.

A white button-up with a tightly fitting vest over it, and are those cufflinks you see shining on his sleeve? He's still in the process of pulling on his jacket, and it's not the leather one you know, it's an actual suit jacket. Is it called a blazer? You think so. He really is a fancy bastard. And what are those shoes? You bet he had them custom made. Dress shoes, black, but with a white top, and they look so weird, but so, so cool. You feel under-dressed.

"Yo," he greets you after he gets the jacket buttoned, the usual half-smirk playing at his lips and you give him a friendly nod as a reply.

"Shall we?" He adds, and you nod at him, turning on your heels and heading down to the good ol' bus stop, Dirk following beside you.

"What's the scene like there?" You ask out of curiosity, just wanting to get some sort of information about the club, its quote-unquote inhabitants, the staff, the unwritten rules, all that kind of stuff.

He throws you a glance, eyebrow raised slightly, smirk still there. The best bet is that he knows exactly how it's like, and he's going to tease you for being a newcomer.

"Crazy after midnight," he simply says, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you calculate that there's only short of two hours left until midnight. Guess you won't be home by at least two in the morning. You reckon you'll have to study like mad again tomorrow.

You shrug and he gives you one of his knowing half-smirks, because he knows you're going to get completely bashed and he'll have to drag you home before one in the morning. There's a rustle that comes from him, and he's pulling out a pink box of cigarettes, which you definitely playfully judge him for, and lights one quickly as you walk.

"Y'know, I ain't never seen a dude smoke those," you say non-chalantly, and he simply raises a brow at you. Thank god he isn't wearing his shades, honestly. Who would wear shades in the dark of the night?

"Guess ya weren't hangin' with the right dudes." He chuckles in reply, and stops once you're about to cross the street, then waits for a car to pass and you both commit the illegal act of jaywalking to get to the other side. "How smashed're ya plannin' ta get?"

"Fuck, dunno. Just know I ain't drank alcohol since... Fuck, I dunno, the end a summer?" You're not even sure when the last time was, but you need to be kept away from harder liquor, and while you can stomach quite a bit, once you get to the absinthe, your chances of walking straight are close to none. Maybe you won't tell him, just to have some fun.

"I ain't lettin' ya get more fucked up than me." He chuckles and exhales a puff of smoke afterwards, which, you must admit, looks really cool in the dim lighting of two street lights. His sharp, chiseled features really give him a badass look, you can imagine him being some sort of mobster in a movie or something. By that, you mean he looks cool.

The bus arrives in a few minutes, with both of your cigarettes extinguished and on the ground. God damnit, littering, is this what you've come to? Disgusting, the both of you, how dare you.

After getting on it, you can see that not a lot of people are on it yet, probably due to it being mid-week, and everyone is home, getting ready for the next day of school. Not you two though, no, you're rebels. You pick yourself a seat, but Dirk politely declines when you offer the neighbouring one to him, and remains standing beside you. Maybe it has something to do with wrinkling his clothes? It doesn't bother you enough to ask.

He stays unmoving, only taking his phone out of his pocket to text someone while you stare out the window for a minute, even though you can't see a thing, then turn your head to look at a few other passengers inconspicuously. There's a guy in a blue hoodie talking on his phone, some teen-looking kid with short, turquoise hair who's staring at her phone, two elderly ladies talking, and another tall guy leaning against one of the railings. You're wondering if it's even a good idea to go to the club at this time, mostly because there might be no one there. Maybe that slipped Dirk's mind?

The ride takes you only a couple of minutes, and you get off in front of a parking lot beside a long road that stretches from the city centre and to one of the outer districts. That sounds kind of post-apocalyptic. It's just the suburbs, really.

"C'mere," Dirk beckons you, already a few steps ahead while you're still looking around. You turn to the left, and you can already hear some very muffled music, but when the bus drives off, you can see the source as well. There's a crossroad with three roads in front of you, which you're currently walking towards, and straight across is a large, rectangular building, and a small-ish entry that appears to be attached to it on the left, with neon yellow and red letters spelling out the word "CIRCUS".

The two of you cross the road and make it to the entrance, and he checks the time on his phone, then takes his cigarettes out again and lights one right up. Well, if that's what he wants.

"What, ya 'fraid t' go in, bro?" You ask with a soft chuckle, lighting your own cigarette for the time being, not to mention, if he's going to have one, you might as well join so you have something to do.

"'M thinkin'," he replies, puffing out the breath of smoke and then pointing at the door with the cigarette. There's a poster on it, the typical kind with various musical artists listed one after another, given that there's only about three of them this evening anyway, and the rest of the space is filled with advertisements and images with peoples' silhouettes partying in a colourful club. Seen one, seen all.

"'Bout what?" You ask when you turn back to him after reading the text on the poster, taking another drag and puffing smoke past his face. Is he going to chicken out or something?

"'S just that all those guys suck. If they were any good, the club'd be full. How many people ya see comin' in?" He tells you in a sort of annoyed tone, and you can see that he's trying to salvage the situation in his head. Still though, why couldn't you just try and have fun despite the bad artists?

"A'ight, I get what ya mean, but what do we got ta lose?" You nudge nim lightly in the side, grinning almost teasingly, as if daring him to enter the club that's now been occupied by shitty DJs and practically no people. Man, they're so going to lose quite a bit of reputation for this.

"Money?" Right, he's right. You're not the wealthiest student, after all, and you'll be damned if you don't spend your money well. That is, on good, cheap alcohol. "C'mon, I'll show ya how t' have fun in this town."

You trust him, and you let him lead you.

First, he turns to the left, facing the road your bus followed when you got off, then looks to the right, where it curves and leads further into the city, and that's the one you're taking, apparently. It's not a long walk, you pass your school and then cross to the other side, after what he leads you through the park, which is dimly illuminated by two streetlights. Past that, he takes a right turn, cutting down the road and to the main road that goes through the center of the town, buildings, some tall, some not so much, standing on both of its sides.

However, he only follows it for a minute before you cross over to the other side, and your eyes are scanning over the buildings. They seem old, yet elegant, nothing terribly high, three or four storeys tops, and in soft colours that you barely make out in the light to be light reds, washed yellows and dirty whites.

When you look away and back to the street-level instead of rooftop-level, you notice that you're in the middle of a square, bordered by the main street, a small park and then buildings all around you. It's pretty even at night. You make a mental note to check it out during the day sometime.

"Shame, no one's around," he comments as you follow him past the park, still following the main road until you reach the edge of the square, and a crossroad. For a moment, he stops, just looking around for who knows what.

Directly forward is the new part of the centre, where the newer shops are, tall buildings and lounges and probably a Mc Donald's somewhere in between. The road on the left would just take you to a different part of town, which you don't know that well, and to the right is a garage, very practical. Dirk crosses that one, then stops at the corner after you follow, looking up at a relatively small building, the kind where there's residential floors above a shop or a bar, you know? And indeed, a bar is under there, and the entrance is a few stone archways away. You can't see the name.

"This one's a'ight," he says and looks at you, to what you shrug and so does he, right back. "That don't tell me anythin'."

"I mean, I don't mind, bro. Ya know this town better than me, I'm all down fer anythin' ya lead me into." You offer him a smile, but you do feel a little embarrassed, because you really could have articulated your answer better than just giving him a shrug.

"Tell ya what, we'll hit this one an' then go t' a store t' buy ourselves a bottle an' I'll take ya 'round town, how's that?" He smirks at you with that half-smirk he probably has a patent pending on while you process what he's just said. Stop focusing on his features, Christ.

Is it a good idea to go out and get completely smashed while wandering around a city you barely know? Maybe not, but you've got someone to lead and look over you, and he seems to know this town like the back of his hand. It's a lottery, but you'll take your chances.

"Sounds chill. Just- ain't we got school tomorrow?" You are a little bit concerned about that, isn't he? He's doing this so non-chalantly it's almost as if he doesn't care about school.

"Hun, two days a work ain't nothin' ya can't catch up on," he tells you, and yeah, you think, he's right, he's absolutely right. You have school next week too, and there's a weekend involved, why shouldn't you take that off before you overwork yourself? Damn, this guy is a guru.

The stay at the bar, which you learn is named "Geonautic", is short, and you each down a pint of whichever beer they have to warm up, then hit the nearest store that's still open at this time, which is, of course, a twenty-four hour corner store, and emerge with two bottles of cheap wine, one for each. It's almost sleazy, but tonight's about fun, isn't it? Then it's gross how cheap you are for fun.

Thankfully, the bottles have screw-on caps, not corks, and you both open it, dink the bottles and start slowly sipping. Dirk leads you through the city, left, right, here and there, through a concrete square with a strange sculpture, where you balance on short walls, still sipping at your wine. This is so cliché, you think, but you understand why people do it. You only need another person to have fun with like this. He laughs when you stumble, but don't fall, and you promptly flip him off.

The bottles drain more and more while you follow him around, a bit more when he explains a few sights, like a statue of some unimportant leader that looks like it's screaming angrily, then, somehow, you end up in a large park. And it's a stretch to call it a park, because it encompasses an entire hill, a small lake, a mansion and an event hall. You're still laughing and nudging each other.

"An' that's how ah got me two small brothers an' a big one." He gives a little burp, flopping down on a bench and tilting the bottle this and that way to see how much was left. Less than a half, definitely. He's fast, and his accent is slurring even more, how funny.

"Shit, man- that's one chill story," you mumble right back, sitting beside him and kind of leaning onto him. "I only gots me a big bro, but the motherfucker's all gone an' started studyin' abroad."

"Awwh, lucky him," he says in a laugh, shoving you gently to try and get you off of himself. The unnecessary weight is acting like a blanket, and he's already hot enough. In both ways, hahah, man, what the hell are you thinking?

You take another swig from the bottle and finally sit upright after about a minute of nudging and pushing. "So, what're we gonna do now?" you ask, and a few moments of silence follow as he seems to think over a few options.

"Well, there's this abandoned place up there." He points into a tree, and thankfully, the leaves had all fallen off of it and the ones behind it already, and you can see a faint outline of some kind of building on a little hill. "Could go check it out, if ya wanna."

"Sign me up, motherfucker, let's go," you say enthusiastically, and the both of you get up again to follow a path and some stone stairs leading up the hill, until you reach a courtyard.

It's not ancient, but not exactly modern, asphalt on the ground, a tree smack-dab in the middle, which has outgrown the concrete confines and made a mess with its roots around it. On the left, there's a small, long-ish building, some windows boarded up and the door broken half-way, so the bottom is open, and the top is still a door. The roof seems to have been set on fire one time, and a few rooms inside it are charred, just like the roof. Another path leads even further uphill behind it. To the right stands an old, rusty gazebo, and right in front of you, a large building with a ground floor and two more levels above it, and painted a dreadful, yellow color that's flaked and shows brick in some places. The uppermost floor is also burnt, and the roof has fallen in in a few of those rooms.

Bro beckons you over, already a few steps ahead as you stare at the building in front of you, marvelling. Another path leads behind this building's right side, and there seems to be an entrance to an opened up window down in the basement. It's been boarded up, but said boards now lie on the ground, morphed and cracked up from the weather. He takes the first step up onto the ledge and practically slides inside, placing his bottle down on the ground, probably to pick it up later.

You do that as well, lift your foot carefully, place it on the ledge, and heave yourself up, then jump down onto the floor beneath you. A sudden cold hits you as a breeze rolls through whatever room you're in, and a small light flicks on, which you notice to be Dirk's phone light.

"This used ta be a disco," he says as he shines the light around, and crimson red walls just scream at you from all sides. The ceiling is practically peeling, and you reach into your pocket for your phone as well, so you can illuminate whatever you please.

The room is rectangular, somewhat, with what seems to be two supporting walls dividing it long-ways. The floor is littered with trash, as you expected, from plastic bottles to glass bottles and cans, mostly alcohol, and you can tell people go here to drink. A few dirty rags are tossed around here and there, you can't tell what they are anymore, and so, you proceed into the second half of the room.

A bar, decorated with small, golden tiles stands to the left, while on the right, a doorway leads to another dark area. Right in front of you is a corridor through which another cold breeze slides through, making you shiver. Thankfully, the alcohol inside you is keeping you warm.

"This is wicked," you comment while Dirk follows you non-chalantly, probably because he's seen this place countless times. He seems to know it. "What in the motherfuck is this place?"

"A hotel," he says, then points the light to the wall beside the corridor, and you can make out some painted letters on it. Black and white that stand out on that screaming red make it easier to read the somewhat curvy letters.

"Be... Bell- Bell-view?" You're not sure what that's supposed to mean.

"Bellevue," he corrects, then walks over to the doorway that leads deeper into the building, shining his light down the hallway, which casts plenty of shadows and makes a few glass bottles glimmer back. "C'mon, ah've seen this place plenty a times. Consider me yer tour guide."

Decidedly, you follow your new tour guide into the dark, breezy corridor, trying not to stumble over any debris or a piece of trash under your feet. He leads you all the way through the building, past what used to be a boiler room, apparently, and past a few closed, but slightly broken doors, until you reach a staircase that leads up to your left. Sidestepping a few bottles, you make your way upstairs, only to find yourself being led through what must have been a large, busy kitchen when it was still a kitchen. Now, all that's left of it is the blue and white tiles and a few shelves that have fallen apart over the years. You don't linger for long, and he's leading you up another staircase, this time much bigger and made of concrete. This place must've housed only the most pompous, poshiest of assholes.

Two flights up and you're at the top. There's naked brick everywhere, and the roof is missing in several places, not to mention that the boards and trams that used to be holding it up are completely broken and charred on the slightly mossy floor. Dirk hasn't stopped yet though, and he leads you into one of the rooms, taking careful steps over the rubble, until you're both standing in front of a window hole.

The view of the city you're given is quite beautiful. You're not even that high up, but the yellow lights, the mix of blue, purple and black in in the sky makes you feel quite at peace. There's the soft noise of the occasional vehicle down there, as you'd expect from a city, and you lean onto the crumbling wall to just listen.

"People miss this," you hear Dirk say, then turn your head to see him leaning on the other wall with a small smile on his face. "They just don't look in the righ' places anymore."

He's right. It's nice to take a night off just for this, to enjoy the sights, the sounds and the feeling you get around you. That could be because you're slightly intoxicated, but you're still enjoying the feeling you're getting from the air around you, just breathing it all in and getting lost in the sight of the city.

"I feel so chill, man," you say with a more silent voice, not wanting to disturb the oddly tranquil moment around you both. Dirk gives an equally silent laugh and turns his head to you, his smile now turned into a grin. You grin back.

"Let's get our wine before someone pisses in it or somethin'." As little sense as that makes. He turns away and begins traversing the rubble again, but you take another few seconds of sightseeing for yourself, making a mental imprint of the moment and then turning around yourself to follow Dirk out of the building. You wonder why he's in such a hurry to lead you everywhere.

Your bottles are still where you left them, and they don't smell like piss, so you welcome the wine into your throat again, while Dirk paces around the courtyard with his own bottle in his hand. Eventually, he stops beside the large tree, looking at you through the darkness, you can see he's turned towards you at least. He leans against it and takes a swig from the bottle.

In this no-light environment, he looks like a phantom. A really badass, drunk phantom.

You walk towards him, but then stop when you notice the gazebo, now to the left of you, and take a detour, stepping underneath its roof. The floor beneath you is wooden, and so is the railing around the gazebo, which you carefully lean on, lest it breaks under your weight. You don't even notice Dirk walking up to you, until he's standing right in front of you, practically looming.

Neither of you make a single peep for almost an entire minute, until he empties his bottle and crouches down to place it on the floor. The funny thing is, he stays there, on his knees and right in front of you, which you find oddly strange of him.

What's he shooting at?

"Man, you really ought'a get back up before ya regret somethin' in the mornin' again." You laugh and try to nudge him with your foot, but he blocks it and pushes it back down. "C'mon dude, git up."

"Dun' wanna," is his answer, simple and clear. He leans back onto his arms, giving a soft sigh and looking up at you.

His eyes glint in the darkness. Something tells you he's much more shameless when he's got a bit of alcohol in his system, and you're not sure where this is going.

Think it over, Gam. Worst possible scenario? He throws up on your pants. Best possible scenario? Well, you're not going to deny it, but getting your rocks off would be pretty spectacular right now. The both of you might regret it when you sober up, but such is life. Again, this could be your brain talking and convincing you into things you would never even consider Not because you wouldn't like them, but because of other factors, such as being seen by somebody.

But no one is going to see you here at this time, which is the only major concern that you have, so why not enjoy this time with your good bro, if he's offering it to you?

Hey, wait, when did your belt get unbuckled?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized how ironic the club name is because of Gamzee.
> 
> And if you haven't yet noticed, everywhere they go is a real place. Even the hotel.


End file.
